


Dark Clarity

by GalaxiaBlaze



Category: Fire Emblem Heroes, Fire Emblem Series
Genre: Arvis is a good bro, Canon-Typical Violence, Demonic Possession, Epic Battles, F/M, FEH made me fall in love with Lyon a lot more than I can admit, Hurt/Comfort, Julius is a straight up jerk, Lyon needs a hug, Mild Angst, Nightmares, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating May Change, Self-Indulgent, Slight horror?, Slow Burn, Somewhat based on my own FEH castle, Suggestive Themes, Suggestive themes might eventually turn into... something else(?), The violence warning is for a select few chapters, This is the product of one's daydreaming, Valter is actually somewhat decent here though not by much, but I still placed it there just to be safe, for later chapters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-26
Updated: 2019-08-01
Packaged: 2019-08-29 13:17:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 17
Words: 66,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16744723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GalaxiaBlaze/pseuds/GalaxiaBlaze
Summary: When Lyon is summoned into Askr, he wonders if he's made a mistake in arriving in a place so incredibly bright. In his heart, shriveled and blackened by the influence of the Demon King and of the many, tragic ordeals he caused, it was like he was consistently drowning in warmth, warmth he hadn't felt in what might as well have been eons. He didn't deserve this, and he especially didn't deserve this second chance at living.His Summoner, Zephyr, says otherwise.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello~! Just gonna be frank with you guys, I got this little fic as part of a daydreaming collection of some of my favorite characters in FEH, and I'll just say: I could not *not* write something like this. And besides, I wanted to write something for Lyon that's positive for a change (since most of fics I read about him end up in tragedy (and even my summary says otherwise, but I digress). Bless him, he deserves better. ;-;).
> 
> Another, probably more important note: I have never actually played FE4 or FE8 before (and a couple of other FEs that may or may not be mentioned, with perhaps the exception of FE7, FE9, and FE10) , but I know the general gist of the events that happen in their respective worlds. I also take what I know of them from Heroes, and basically improvised from there. Tips and advice for any of these games and their characters would be greatly appreciated.

Chapter 1:

C SUPPORT

* * *

 

“....and this here is the main part of the castle. You’ll see a lot of the heroes come through here quite often, so this is a nice place to make some friends…”

“...I see.”

 It was only a few days since Lyon was summoned by the Summoner, and it still shook him how… welcoming, this place was. It was so unlike his world, his own country… it almost unnerved him with how nice everything was. The Summoner, whose name was Zephyr, was so kind, and the prince and princess of this castle let him in with open arms. Had his heart not been so blackened, he would have wept.

It served to remind him of better times, with Ephraim and Eirika (whom Zephyr had informed him were not present), times he would almost certainly never get back. The sight of so many unfamiliar faces, the way they just seem to gather around with not a care in the world. The way they could just go about their lives like nothing was wrong, even with the threat of Embla’s forces on their doorstep… it did something to the prince of Grado. He was denied his happiness long ago… and they got to keep theirs?

 Something cold strummed within him, like a dark temptation, that felt akin to envy.

 So caught up in his reverie that he didn’t hear the Summoner’s warning to look out, and he found himself crashing right onto another mage in a flurry of lavender and crimson.

“Lyon!” cried Zephyr, racing for the two fallen mages. She knew that Lyon wasn’t particularly known for his dexterity, and he bruised at the drop of a hat. “You okay?”

“I am--” Lyon began, getting his bearings, only to be harshly pushed away by the red mage, grunting when he landed awkwardly on his hip.

“Gah! Watch where you’re walking, purple haired freak!” the red mage spat as he stood, dusting himself off.

Lyon felt his cheeks bloom almost as darkly as the red mage’s own hair, his eyes downcast as he managed to stand at last. The first person he meets immediately berates. That shouldn’t have been surprising…. “M-my apologies,” he stated with a polite bow. “I hadn’t been aware…”

The other mage scrutinized him, stark crimson eyes that seemed way too inhuman for the Grado prince’s taste staring into his very being. He couldn’t hold his stare, not with such… malice looking back at him. It reminded him too much of--

It only took a flash of Formortiis’ baleful glare to enter his mind before he mentally quashed that thought, shivers running through him. He didn’t need to be reminded of that, especially now of all times.

“Zephyr, who is this guy?” the other mage asked the Summoner. “Never seen him.”  
“That’s because he’s new, Julius,” Zephyr told him, standing between the two now, a hand gripping Lyon’s quivering one, as if to comfort him. “His name is Lyon, a prince back in his world like you. I was just showing him around the castle is all.” 

Julius scoffed haughtily, sneering at the other prince. “Him? A prince?” he said with a laugh. “No way is this punk a prince. He’s the meekest looking prince I’ve ever met.”

“Julius!” Zephyr said severely, sensing Lyon cower the tiniest bit. “Apologize!”

“For stating a fact? I have no need.” He turned on his heel with a swish of his cape, shoes clacking harshly on the smooth floor as he made his way down the hall. “Just keep him out of my way. I have no tolerance for the weak.”

Lyon let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding in after Julius was out of earshot. He hadn’t realized that he was gripping the Summoner’s hand in a deadlock grip until she grunted out of pain, and he quickly let go. “S-sorry…”

 Zephyr turned to him, giving a sigh of her own. “Don’t apologize. If anything, I’m sorry you had to be part of that,” she replied. “Not everyone’s like him. Julius always has his head up his ass over something…” 

Lyon shook his head. “I’ve met… many people who were like that back in my world,” he told her. “I’ve learned how to deal with it.”  
  
“But you shouldn’t _have_ to,” Zephyr emphasized, her eyes filled with so much concern Lyon was sure he was looking at someone else entirely. “You’re in a better place here. You’ve been given a second chance… and you deserve better, Lyon.” 

The prince rubbed the back of his head sheepishly, suddenly silent. Did he really deserve better? After all he went through back in his world… with the Demon King, with Grado, with… with… his _death_ at the hands of his friend? He was the cause of so much misery and sorrow for everyone involved… he didn’t wish for a chance to live, didn’t have the _right_ to _be_ living when he robbed that chance from so many others…

And yet she was saying he deserved a second chance….

“...thank you, Zephyr,” he said after a moment of pause, a ghost of smile stretching across his face. “Your kindness… knows no bounds...”

Zephyr beamed at him, that same brightness Lyon recognized was similar to what Eirika had. “No problem, Lyon. I’m always here to help,”  she reassured him. “As a member of the Order of Heroes, you’re always welcome.”

The Summoner grabbed his hand and proceeded to drag him down the hall. “Now, come on! We still gotta get to the library~!”

Perhaps, just perhaps, he could find redemption here.

  



	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little warning for a tiny bit of nightmare elements in this chapter.

Chapter 2:

B SUPPORT (Part 1)

The one place Lyon could always find solace in times of trouble was the library. It was his escape, the only thing that made enduring each and every battle he participated in that much more bearable (or, if he were back in Grado, he would retreat there to avoid stuffy meetings when he was younger, although try as he might the strategy usually ended up a bust).  And the Askran library was no exception to this rule. Grado’s library paled in comparison to the sheer volume of literature that laid within Askr’s walls, so much so that Lyon would need the lifetime of a manakete to properly enjoy its contents, of which he was okay with. It meant he could explore whatever topic his imagination fancied, and he wouldn’t grow bored searching.

As it were, after Zephyr showed him a some weeks ago, he stayed in that library for hours upon hours on end, sometimes entire nights if he had the opportunity. It wasn’t uncommon to see the mage passed out under a mountain of books the following morning, and someone - often Canas, since he was as much of a regular denizen to the library as Lyon was - would wake him from his slumber, most of the time waking up red-faced with embarrassment. This cycle would continue for a while, and it was a natural sight altogether. He would eventually have to thank Zephyr for bringing him to this magnificent place.

Tonight was no different than any other night in the library. He was peacefully dozing under a pile of books on the different types of magic and its vocabulary, the only light provided being the candles lit around the room and the moonlight piercing the windows. This night, he had overworked himself in his endeavours, and he hadn’t the strength to make the journey back to his dwellings. He hoped Zephyr wouldn’t worry about his health too much. Despite him telling her otherwise, the Summoner wanted everyone in optimal shape.

As he continued to drift off into a deeper sleep, Lyon’s eyes caught wind of something peculiar. The candles that were alight had been extinguished simultaneously, like an invisible wind had sucked them away. The moon seemed more distant now, and the shadows grew closer to the center, making the library itself all but gone.

And right then, a voice chimed to him in his mind, a voice that raked its frigid claws down Lyon’s spine and filled the dark mage with dread.

_“Foolish child, did you think you would hear the last of me?”_

Lyon gasped, disbelief in his heart. “No… n-no… there’s… it can’t…”  
  
_“It can, child,”_ countered the voice, silken but rough, an ancient power the demanded respect. _“ For I am all that makes the living weep, the dead rejoice, the sinners grovel and repenters fall. I am that of which defies will and spirit.”_

Lyon saw another version of himself appear from a hellish portal from the ground-- only this time, with ghoulish red eyes, sharpened nails, and elongated fangs.

_“I am Formortiis, and I have returned.”_

“Impossible!” Lyon exclaimed, backing away from this hideous apparition of himself. He stumbled into a non-existent wall, scrambling to find his tome. “You’re dead! _You’re dead!_ Ephraim… he-”

 _“Killed you? Yes, he did,”_ Formortiis finished, walking forward, unafraid, his footsteps leaving a haunting echo behind him. _“But he only succeeded in freeing you in death from me being your host. And though he did deal to me the final blow, I returned when you were revived… by that summoner of yours…”_

“What?”

A rumbling chuckle rocked the darkness as Formortiis stood mere feet in front of the prince. _“I guess it would come as a surprise. It surprised me too when I realized what happened. But now, I am back…”_

“What do you want?” Lyon snapped, hand on his tome at last, fingers fumbling now to open a page, any page, even if he knew nothing would work - Formortiis wasn’t the Demon King for nothing. “Why can’t you leave me alone?”

 _“You mean what do_ you _want?”_ Formortiis corrected, casually ripping the book away from Lyon and tossing it aside. _“I’ve seen it, child, felt it in your heart of yours. The Summoner treats you kindly, does she not?”_

Lyon’s face turned from confusion to a traitorous shade of pink.

 _“I figured I was correct.”_ Formortiis scoffed. _“You mortals are all the same. You want her safe, comfortable… all to yourself.”_

“...no.”

_“Don’t bother denying it.Your heart jumps every time she speaks to you, like you’ve never known kindness in your life, and she’s the greatest friend you’ve ever met ever since your demise. I wonder… does she remind you of Eirika?”_

“....” Another undeniable blow to Lyon as the Demon King crept closer still, teeth flashing.

 _“I can help you get her,”_ Formortiis whispered in a sweetly deceptive tone. _“Get her to yourself, rid of the competition… that pesky red-haired brat has another thing coming his way… fue fue fue, I could even help you bed her, if you’re into that…_

“I don’t want you in any part of my life anymore, Demon King!” Lyon finally gathered the strength to shout, even if his heart was in his back at the moment. “I found a place where I can find redemption, and I won’t have you ruin that for me!”

For a moment, the Demon King was taken aback by his former host’s audacity. He wasn’t used to Lyon resisting his suggestions in the past. It must have been something to do with that girl. Or perhaps that stubborn Restoration Prince. Hm.

Formortiis chuckled once again, licking his lips and grabbing at Lyon’s throat with a clawed hand. _“Such bravado. I wonder if you take that back after Ephraim….”_ he stated as Lyon scratched meekly at the offending hand. _“Oh, well. There’s more than one way to break a man. Let’s see how many strings I can pluck before you fall to ruin~”_

Lyon screamed as fang and claw tore into him.

 

* * *

 

“What even is this music? It’s not even a tune, it just sounds like an armada of dying wyverns.”

“Well, that’s a nice way to describe dubstep.”

“That’s what this is? Your world is an odd one.”

Arvis took off the headphones that Zephyr let him borrow, letting them hang over his neck as the Breidablik user began to look through her playlist for another song, her phone beaming in the dark hallway. When the Summoner had been brought to this world, she came with several items, including her phone and headphones.

Of course, this meant she had to experiment: just what music from her world would the Heroes here listen to? The results were surprising to say the least: Narcian was a fan of rock, Julius was incredibly in awe of death metal (no surprise there, Zephyr thought), and even Zephiel couldn’t help but be swayed by jazz, although he quickly recollected himself when Zephyr caught him singing along.

She put on “One-Winged Angel” for Arvis now. “Alright, one more. I think you’ll like this.”

“You said that the last time-”

A scream rang down the hall then, stopping them both in their tracks. Arvis tensed, a hand on his coveted tome Valflame. “Stay behind me, Zephyr,” he said, his book glowing in preparation.

Another scream came, and this time Zephyr recognized the man behind the cry. “That sounds like Lyon!” she exclaimed. “He might be in danger! Let’s go!”

The pair raced down the pitch-black corridor, and Zephyr only now realized, as her phone lit the way, something else strange: there was usually candles lit down this way, and they all went kaput. What gives?

She would receive her answer when the shadows of the hall lunged at them, and she yelped, ducking to the ground. But Arvis was faster than the darkness, and unleashed his signature burning hellfire upon it, the area turning so bright it was akin to staring into the heart of the sun. Zephyr found herself having to shield her eyes, lest his flames rob her of her sight.

The darkness had turned to dust, the ash falling like snow around them as the area dimmed. The fire had been so bright the residual embers still burned like miniature candles. “Sorry, Zephyr,” Arvis said, helping her up, looking her over in case she was injured, a rare show of concern from him. “I hadn’t calculated the strength of my flames. Did I hurt you?”

“No… almost blinded me, but I’m fine,” the Summoner reassured him. “Just… what was that just now?”  
  
“Dark magic,” was the Duke’s grave reply. He knew dark magic too well. His son had become a victim of it.  “Strong dark magic too. Lyon might be in a lot more danger than he realizes…”

That... that was dark magic? She never saw any kind of fell magic move like that, much less like it was writhing, living being. Not even Julius could make his magic move that way, or any dark mage she knew for that matter. Unless it was some sort of weird monster that was the cause...  
  
Regardless, she resumed running down the hall again, stopping short at the library doors, which had been flung open with such a profound force it was a wonder that they hadn't fallen off the hinges.

And inside was a fallen Lyon, trembling, as if he were suffering from some awful nightmare.

Zephyr rushed in, not even caring of the potential of enemies in sight, to which she saw none. Nothing but flung books and a messy table. Some of his dark magic was quietly fizzing in the air.  As checked to make sure Lyon wasn't sporting anything serious, a thought pressed itself forward into the forefront of her mind at seeing this.Had he… had he caused this…?

“Arvis! You see any signs of the enemy?”  
  
“None,” he called back after a search. “No bodies, no blood, no other traces of magic that I can detect other than my own and Lyon’s… and no signs of any struggle… and there would have been. Lyon may not like fights, but he’ll defend himself if he has too.”

So enemy invasion checked out for now… but they had to get Lyon to safety.  “Alright. Hold on to me, I’m teleporting us to the medical ward.”

With the power of Breidablik, she warped them away in a flash of white.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I personally head canon that the Summoner had brought some of their stuff with them when they were summoned into the Order of Heroes (hence why the phone was here). Might elaborate on how that stuff works here in future chapters.


	3. B SUPPORT (Part 2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I was thinking of renaming the chapter titles, since I realized with the way this story is going it might be a little longer than intended for a support story. Besides, I didn't want to name all of these chapters after supports and it gets to like "A SUPPORT (PART 17)" or something like that.
> 
> With that being said, I appreciate all the feedback that you guys have been giving so far for the last two chapters! Honestly couldn't be happier for it, especially since I was worried it wouldn't take off as fast as it did. I've been on such an inspiration drive, it's a little unhealthy. (I do have to worry about college work in between this, and sometimes I forgo that to work on this, which is... not good.) ^-^"
> 
> With that being said, this chapter is a little shorter than most, just filler before we get into some better episodes into Lyon's transformation from sad boi to good boi. Hope you enjoy!

* * *

 

B SUPPORT

(Part 2)

Lyon came to several hours later in a shimmer of cold sweat, his breath all but non-existent as he gasped fervently, a hand grasping his chest, his eyes wide, lavender locks sticking to his neck and face.

It was over. That accursed nightmare was something he hadn’t experienced in a while, at least not a nightmare of that intensity. He hesitated in looking himself over, fearing he had woken up as some mangled corpse like the zombies back in his world-

His apprehension gave way to relief as he found none of which he thought to be true. No blood, no torn skin or severed bones, not a single claw or fang mark. Even his insides were still intact. 

But most importantly, he had survived. He was alive, as incredulous as the thought was. He was sure he was going to die in the dream and never wake up.

However, he still couldn’t believe it. Formortiis, alive? That shouldn’t be the case, and yet...

“Someone’s finally up.”

Lyon whipped his head around to find Arvis in a chair adjacent to his bed. The red-haired duke took off the headphones from his head and slipped them over his neck, the faint hum of some song ringing in the silent ward. “If you’re wondering, Zephyr brought you here after we found you down in the library,” Arvis continued when he saw the very puzzled look on Lyon’s face. “You’ve been out for the last day and a half.”

“W-what?!” Lyon exclaimed, about to sit up fully when a pain in his side stopped him. “I...I was…” Had Formortiis trapped him in that terrible dream for that long?

“Easy, Lyon.” Arvis brought his steely auburn gaze to face the other’s dismayed lavender one. “The healers want you here until they’re sure you’re not a danger to yourself. Nearly hit one with some rogue magic had I not stepped in.”

“Gods…” Lyon exhaled deeply, closing his eyes and laid himself back down, hurt and disbelief etched into his face. All of this, because he couldn’t catch a break from his _literal inner demon_. “What… What about Zephyr? Is she…?”

“She’s fine,” Arvis answered. “She actually stayed here for a while to watch over you, but had to leave to deal with a meeting with the Askran prince and princess. Had it not been such an important matter, she would have completely forgone the meeting entirely.”

“Zephyr… did this…” Lyon said unbelievably. He honestly couldn’t believe it. Such caring for him? He had just arrived not too long ago, and yet she was treating him so well... “She’s done so much… I don’t… I don’t deserve… this...”

“She clearly thinks you _do_ deserve this, Lyon,” Arvis said, a hardness in his tone that made the prince focus on the duke once more. “The fact she is willing to make these sacrifices for you says that much. As someone who comes from a world far different than any of us can imagine, thrust into another one full of war and tragedy and unknowns, the compassion she shares for the people here - hero and villain alike - is something astronomical. You should be grateful.”

His words struck with the precision of a brave bow, fast and unrelenting. They shouldn’t have stung the prince as much as they did, but each blow did something to him. It left a dent in him, a dent that couldn’t be removed, and from it poured out a languid amount of molten anguish.

Was this… was this how regret felt?

At that moment, the door opened to reveal the Summoner in all her glory. Her slumped posture as she stepped through the threshold spoke wonders of her exhaustion. That all soon disappeared as she eyed Lyon, and her face glowed. “Lyon!” she said, the biggest smile on her face. “God, Lyon, I’m glad you finally woke up, we thought you might have been possessed…”

Somewhere in the darker recesses of his mind, Lyon could have sworn he heard the Demon King laugh.

“Thanks for watching him while I was gone, Arvis,” Zephyr told the duke. “I got it from here.”

“Very well.” Arvis stood, taking the phone and headphones with him. “I’ll give these back to you when I’m done. Some of those songs are actually quite intriguing, and I would like to explore them more.”

The Summoner rolled her eyes. “Not even gonna ask to take it?” she deadpanned. “I’m kidding, you can use them. Just be careful. And do _not_ expose them to heat! You nearly melted my headphones the last time you were training!”

Arvis sent a tiny ember her way, smirking quite devilishly at the proceeding yelp that came afterward. “Like that?”

“ _Yes…_ ” was the grumbling reply. “Get moving, or I’ll find a way to barbecue that tome of yours.”

“Sure, sure.” Arvis waved off her threat, glancing one last time at Lyon with that fiery stare before leaving, the door shutting behind him. Zephyr let out another grumble, patting her burned shoulder.

“I swear, that guy… if it weren’t for the fact he had the ability to roast me faster than I could blink, I’d--hm? Lyon?”

She turned to see Lyon’s eyes shining with tears, his smile a watery one. “Oh, Zephyr,” he said. “I’m sorry… I haven’t been as thankful for your help… as I should have been.”

“W-what? L-Lyon, you don’t have to apologize, I-” His tears finally spilled over down his reddened cheeks, and Zephyr frantically added, “Lyon, please don’t cry, you’re okay! You’re okay!”

Zephyr hugged him, as best as she could with his position on the bed, patting him gently on the back. “Easy, easy… it’s okay, it’s okay… you have nothing to apologize for, alright?”

The prince of Grado just laid in a frozen position, not reciprocating the gesture, but simply laid his head on her shoulder, reigning in his sobs as he buried his head in the crook of her neck.

No matter how many times she told him things were okay, they never could be.

Eventually, when his tears had trickled into nothing more than a rogue drop every so often, Zephyr let him go. “Easy, Lyon… you’re in safe hands,” she told him. “What happened back there at the library though? Breathe first, catch your breath…”

 

* * *

 

Meanwhile, another pair of crimson eyes watched these two from the ward window nearby, disgust blazing within. What a crybaby. And he’s a prince….

“Lyon’s right,” he said to himself, stomping off. “He doesn’t deserve this. Curse him, he’s almost as annoying as my sister…”

 **“Oh? That’s a first,”** went a voice in his mind, a husky malevolence echoing throughout. **“Such abhorrence… and he hasn’t done anything wrong.”**

“Feh. Anything wrong? He _exists_ , that what’s wrong.”

**“Hehehe… your bitterness knows no rest. Say, you don’t happen to be jealous… do you?”**

“Me? Jealous?” Julius let out a hollow laugh. “Do you think I care? I don’t care about such human emotion as trife as jealousy.”

**“So you say, Julius. So you say.”**

Julius’ eyes narrowed, and a little of his dark magic exuded from his hands. “Just zip it, you old bag of scales.”


	4. Trials, Tribulations and (eventual) Triumphs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lyon can't catch a break-- that is, until he finds the courage to rise up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew, what a doozy writing this chapter was. Out of all of them so far, this one I had the most fun writing. It felt so good getting into it I almost forgot to sleep (I stopped writing at around 2 AM XD). It feels awesome, and the next chapter after this will (hopefully) be incredibly hype for you guys.
> 
> And now, onward!

* * *

 

Chapter 4:

Trials, Tribulations, and (eventual) Triumphs

 

The arena -- a place where Heroes and villains could go test their mettle in a way that didn’t hold them back from their potential… to an extent. No fighting to the death was allowed (Breidablik ensured that nothing of that sort would ever go down by creating a “Miracle” -like ability around a downed opponent, ensuring his foe cannot kill him in that instance).

Certain Heroes were not allowed to fight each other, namely due to safety and keeping order, unless it was in some tournament or a sanctioned duel were the rules and matches were strictly monitored. In extreme cases, such as with Julius and Reinhardt, they are outright  _ banned  _ to fight each other altogether. This rule was set in place to protect the blue mage from Julius’ rage, even if Reinhardt said he could handle himself against the Loptous user just fine.

Speaking of the blue mage…

Eldigan and Reinhardt were dueling in the arena, clashing ferociously with each blow with their signature blades. Reinhardt chose to use his sword to even the playing field, and the battle was certainly looking as such. Dust cropped up from the trampling hooves of their horses as they raced around, ducked, and jumped from their blows. From the stands watched a few spectators, including Eldigan’s son, Ares, the Summoner, and even Ishtar.

“They’re really going at each other,” Zephyr breathed in awe, watching Reinhardt dance circles around Eldigan, coming in for one attack, then darting back out again before Eldigan could counter. The visible frustration on the Mystletainn user was evident in the tightening grip of his blade, knuckles visible underneath his white gloves as he fought to gain the offensive once more. “This looks a little more than a simple spar… hope they don’t accidentally hurt each other too much...”

“Sparring isn’t just about simply parrying with practice weapons, Zephyr,” Ares told her bluntly, his focus primarily on his father. “In order to truly test one’s limits in training, you must be willing to not hold back and give it your all. These two are no exception, especially given Sir Reinhardt’s prestige on the battlefield. However…”

Reinhardt’s next blow was deflected, and he grunted as he took a gash to his side. The Lionheart smirked, finally aiming what he was looking for, and pushed the offense further, forcing the unprepared mage knight to take up defensive measures. “In a battle of speed versus endurance, I say my father beats him in the latter. Reinhardt will tire eventually, even with all the speed in the world, and then the match is all but set.”

“So you say, but only because Reinhardt let himself open,” came Ishtar’s counter. “Had he not went for the side slash, he could have kept up with his strategy and whittled down Sir  Eldigan’s defenses. Endurance can only last you but so long. Even as Sir Eldigan gains the attack, his blows are tiring from having to wait for his opportunity.”

The Black Knight sent her a sideways glare. “You insult my father’s abilities, Lady Ishtar?” Ares said testily.

A spark of lightning raced up and down Ishtar’s arm in a fraction of a second. “You seemed to have done the same with my comrade, Sir Ares.”

Zephyr gulped, the telltale smell of ozone gathering not a good sign in the slightest. Ishtar wasn’t particularly short-tempered, but she did not tolerate any offense to the Thunder’s Sword in the slightest. “Guys, let’s not fight in the stands please-”

The sound of Reinhardt’s surprised grunt returned the trio to the now finished duel, Reinhardt fallen off his horse and onto the hard arena floor, Meisterschwert clattering to the ground. Eldigan, breathing hard but quite satisfied, sheathed his blade and dismounted from his steed. He offered a hand to his fallen opponent. “Well fought, Reinhardt. I haven’t had a sparring match that intense in many years,” he praised. 

“As have I,” agreed the mage knight, accepting the hand and pulling himself up. “You certainly live up to your title, Eldigan. I look forward to dueling you again in the future.”

Eldigan gave a courteous smile. “Indeed, good friend.”

Ishtar only looked mildly disappointed at this turn of events - the opposite was said for Ares, his face shining with pride - but otherwise the bitter tension between the two seemed to have been forgotten for now. Phew, thought the Summoner gratefully. That was certainly a close one.

The doors open with a noisy creek, announcing the arrival of a new visitor, none other than the prince of Grado. Zephyr is the first to spot the out of breath mage. “Lyon?” she said, not expecting him at all. After that incident in the library with the nightmare, she was sure he would still be resting. “I thought you were still recovering?”

“I was released early,”  he panted, closing the doors behind him. “I… I hope I’m not too late in finding any sparring partners… I came as soon as I could...”

“Well, if you’re looking for sparring partners, then I won’t mind having you,” Ishtar offered politely. 

Lyon blanched against his already pale skin. The prince knew of the Goddess of Thunder’s power, seen it for himself when she went against Arvis in an explosive clash of the elements. The Duke of Velthomer had barely been able to keep up with her, and she had  effectively trounced him so hard Zephyr had to intervene and stop the match. “I-I appreciate the offer, my lady, b-but I think I wouldn’t be to your liking,” he stammered. “I-I’d be much out of your league.”

Ishtar picks up on this hesitation, tilting her head. “Are you… by chance, intimidated by me? I apologize if that is the case. I do not mean to scare you.”

“N-no, I… should apologize, it isn’t your fault, like you said…” What kind of a mage was he? Some prince… 

Ares stood now. “Then perhaps you would take the chance to go against me?” he asked.

Lyon gulped. Ishtar was a scary prospect, but Ares? He hadn’t fought anyone with a sword in some time, and that was against Eirika. Ares had a totally different fighting style, and, if what he heard from him was true?

He was as ruthless in the arena as he and his demon sword were in battle. 

“You can do it!” Zephyr encouraged the red mage. “I’m sure you can, I believe in you!”

Lyon was practically the color of fresh snow when the Summoner supported this. But if Zephyr said he could… 

Then really, what did he have to lose (other than dignity for taking up this insane offer)?

He forced himself to respond with what little confidence he still had, and declared, “I-I accept your challenge, Black Knight.”

The Dark Mystletainn user gave the tiniest grin at the use of his title. “Certainly.” Ares took his father’s place (not without giving his own congratulations on the previous battle of course), and Lyon took Reinhardt’s. Both stood on opposite sides of the other, a few meters apart in that earthen arena. 

“I will fight you without my steed, in order to make this bout as equal as possible,” Ares said, slowly drawing his blade. “But make no mistake: I am as adept with a sword on foot as I am on horseback.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” Lyon replied honestly, grabbing Naglfar, cape fluttering from an invisible wind.

“Good.” Dark Mystletainn pointed, the Black Knight’s eyes were sharpened to a predator’s gaze. “Now then, at your ready.”

Lyon took a breath to steady his nerves and closed his eyes, cape flying with power now, a violet aura surrounding him. Lightning of the same color streaked through gathering clouds as his eyes snapped open. 

Here goes.

He unleashed Naglfar with a determined yell, the darkness raining down upon Ares. The swordsman began running, dodging the hailing shadows from above, slashing at any bits of stray magic that came his way. He couldn’t evade all of its damage, but he escaped the brunt of the attack. 

“Heyaah!” was Ares’ battle cry, going in for jab with the pummel of his blade. With Naglfar’s absurd weight, Lyon was left wide open and unable to dodge, and the following yelp made that apparent as he doubled over, coughing harshly.

He wouldn’t have time to recover, as Ares went for a follow-up attack, this time smacking the Gradian prince with the blunt side of the sword. Lyon tumbled head over lavender cape, dust racing after him as he lay in a heap. Ares walked after him, patient in his footsteps. “Is that all you have?” he asked, almost tauntingly. “I hope that you have more than that to offer.”

Reinhardt shook his head, a look of pity for the grounded mage in his eyes. “Lyon never was one for dexterity,” he stated. “Even by mage standards. Picking a fight with Ares was bound to not go well.”

“And knowing him, Ares will grow tired of this easy picking,” Eldigan commented. “This match was over before it began.”

“Oh, hush!” Zephyr interjected, suddenly feeling rather defensive about how they treated Lyon. “This match is only starting.”

“On the contrary, Zephyr,” Ishtar told her, pointing to Lyon. The mage wasn’t moving, and when Ares flipped him over, there were X’s over his eyes.

A solid KO.

“Well, that happened,” Ares stated with surprise, unaware the match was going to be that fast. “Shame. Was expecting more from that fight.”

“I don’t know why he thought as such,” Eldigan deadpanned as his son made his way back to the stands. 

Zephyr hopped down, sliding to a halt to heal Lyon with a vulnerary. The mage groaned weakly, blinking wearily as he revived. “Is the match over already?” he rasped.

“Unfortunately,” said Zephyr sadly. “But hey, you still took on the challenge. That’s solid guts to take on Ares.”

“I suppose,” Lyon sighed. He stood with some difficulty, dusting himself off. “Maybe I should have fought Ishtar…”

“Don’t bring yourself down, there’s always next time-”

The doors swung open again, this time to reveal Arvis and  _ his  _ son. Immediately, tension rose in the air, and the Summoner shifted her gaze to a somewhat miffed Reinhardt and even more embittered Lionheart and Black Knight, the former in particular giving a potent death glare to Arvis. Ishtar, realizing the danger, prepared to launch herself forward in the case things got antsy, a hand grazing the ends of her Mjolnir.

But Julius wasn’t concerned with the Thunder’s Sword, or any of them for once, because his eyes locked onto Lyon first. “Hey, freak,” he called out. “What happened, you get caught in a dust storm or something? Or did you just get your ass beat?”

Arvis promptly clouted Julius in the back of the head, shutting him up. He still wore the headphones that the Summoner allowed him to borrow, the speakers this time quietly blaring “Pines of Rome” of all things. “Pay him no mind, Lyon,” Arvis told the now fidgety dark mage. “Although… what did I miss?”

“...nothing… I was just leaving,” Lyon stated quietly, suddenly eager to get moving from the scene. He was already humiliated once today, he didn’t need to be humiliated again.

“Hey, where you going?” Julius said, sliding right in front of Lyon’s path.  “What, you scared? Not even gonna fight? Although, you're not much of a fighter, let alone a prince...”

“Julius, can you not?” Zephyr said assertively (before Ishtar could say anything of a similar sort), but he interrupted, “Stay out of this. This doesn't concern you.”

Something twisted within Lyon’s gut at the dismissive, almost acidic way he told off the Summoner, and his fists clenched. “ _ Enough, _ Julius,” he said, voice raised just the slightest octave above normal that it startled even the Loptous user.

Regardless, Julius grinned, bearing sharpened fangs. “Care to repeat that?” he said, his expression awfully giddy.

“If you wish for a fight, I will have you,” came the cold reply, his aura flaring to life, much stronger than it was against Ares. “But I will not tolerate you treating Zephyr with such demoralizing  _ crass _ .” 

Julius chuckled, matched Lyon’s violet aura with his own black and red one, the two energies crackling and spitting at each other like angry vipers. “The game is  _ on… _ ”

Zephyr gulped, edging closer to Arvis, who instinctively put a protective arm around her waist. Reinhardt had quietly slipped closer to Ishtar as well, as if telling her he had her back, knowing full well what could go down.

This was going to be a big one.

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A battle of demons is a harsh one. The question is: which demon is the crueler of the two?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so remember when I said last chapter was a doozy? That was a cakewalk to this monster of a chapter. Just a couple hundred short of four thousand words. My brain is fried and my eyes are exhausted. I hope I do all the characters justice here, because in the middle of my writing... I felt like I dropped the ball just a bit. I might revise it when I have the opportunity, but for now, here is the longest chapter in this story by far!
> 
> I was partially inspired for the fight scene from listening to AoT's ost. Incredible music. Speaking of fight scenes, I may have to bump the rating a bit, just to be on the safe side. Formortiis is one to not hold back any punches, let's just say.
> 
> And thank you all for all the hits! Nearly half a thousand hits! That's awesome!

* * *

 

Chapter 5:

Darkness Versus Darkness: Shadows Collide!

 

Julius made his first move.

The tips of Julius’ fingers lengthened to sharpened nails, and his pupils narrowed into something more reptilian. His aura flared ever brighter as his book sprung open, pages fluttering as an evil power hummed in the air. Every muscle in Ishtar’s body grew taut, lightning quietly charging through her veins. She didn’t want to stop Julius by force… but she would if things got serious. She doubted the Summoner could stop her fiance on her own… or if Lyon stood even a sliver of a chance...

Arvis held onto a shaking Zephyr, also looking none too pleased at the situation. His son had already been hard to handle back in his world. And he doubted Lyon could handle whatever Julius threw at him. He had seen Lyon’s strength in combat, and there could be no denying how incredibly strong his magic was. 

But this wasn’t just normal dark magic Lyon was fighting. This was darkness incarnate.

This was….

“Loptous, come forth!” Julius called, the aura around him shooting up into the air in a writhing black and red mass. It began morphing into something more recognizable… 

And Lyon found himself internally regretting his decisions once more when he gazed upon the result, a violet obsidian dragon so dark it was like staring into the abyss. Two beady red eyes stared down at him with malevolent glee, a glee that the Gradian prince only saw in the red mage in front of him and--

_ A memory of the battlefield surfaced, a memory of him staring down Eirika in the exact same manner as this dragon, laughing as he relished the frightened expression that graced her gentle face. “Dear Eirika… do I frighten you?” he asked, the unmistakable growl that usually accompanied his possession by the Demon King rolling from his throat like distant thunder. “You need not be. I’ll make sure your death is painless after I’ve wrung the life out of your corpse!” _

Lyon immediately shook that thought from his head, disturbed that memory in particular still clung to him even now. He could not afford to lose his nerve, especially against an opponent like Julius. He focused his mind to the foe in front of him, charging Naglfar in retaliation. Concentrate...

Loptous shrieked, breaking Lyon out of his summoning, and launched a shockwave of dark energy that sent Lyon reeling, but he stood his ground. (Those of the audience were likewise more affected, shielding themselves from the fierce power of the move.) Unlike his battle with Ares, he could tank magical attacks, barring blue mages like Ishtar. The magic still stung, however, and feeling Loptous’ rage burn against his skin was a sensation he didn’t want to have lingering too long. 

Loptous reared back, as if sizing up its prey, Julius crowing, “What are you waiting for, punk? Are you gonna attack, or are you just gonna sit there and let me toy with you? As much as I’d like that, you’re a little too weak for me to-”

He was interrupted when a hailstorm of shadows and lightning began to rain down on the dark dragon and mage all too suddenly, Loptous roaring indignantly as it was smothered by Lyon’s attack. The Gradian prince’s frigid stare met the two as he prepared to launch another strike. “You’d do well not to underestimate your opponent,  _ Julius _ ,” he warned.

“Why you-!” was Julius’ animalistic growl as he struggled to recuperate and launched another frontal assault before the other could. “Hold your tongue!”

The dragon snapped its jaws and lunged forward, creating a ghostly claw to swipe at Lyon, who immediately ducked. He came out mostly unscathed, save for a few strands of lavender locks that were unfortunate enough to get cut. He scrambled up from the ground right in the nick of time as Loptous fired homing blasts of dark magic, smacking into the dirt and creating a crater. Julius directed Loptous in the direction the other mage was going, teeth bared in a ferocious smile. “Run all you want, your hope is gone!”

Lyon rolled out of the way from another barrage of those homing blasts, nearly tripping on his own cape as he stood and jumped away from yet another barrage, unleashing Naglfar once more to slow down Julius as much as he could. His lungs were heaving for air and his muscles burned, unused to such exertion. He really wasn’t like most mages --  Reinhardt and Ishtar were better suited to this than he. He didn’t have the physical endurance like Ephraim to run about like a buck in his prime, nor the doe-like grace and speed of Eirika to dart around foes. All he could do was rely on his magical bulk and hope for the best. 

And, looking at Julius now, with that devil of a dragon snapping and snarling at the precipitating magic around it, he didn’t think that defense would last very long at this rate. 

_ “Interesting creature, he is,”  _ came the Demon King’s voice now, his presence startling the prince.  _ “Loptous… a strong opponent, to be sure, even for a dry bag of scale and flesh. Too bad his host stymies his abilities...” _

“What is it, Formortiis?” Lyon murmured spitefully. Having the demon appear now was literally the  _ worst thing  _ that could happen. “I’m in no mood for games…”

_“I’m not either,”_ the Demon King replied, his voice void of any of the usual dark humor or condescension it usually had. It made Lyon do a mental double take, making sure he was hearing the other correctly. _“Loptous is a foe that boasts power equal to mine. Of course, at the moment, that brat is holding his power down. You on the other hand have already reached your physical limits, and the battle has just started.”_

“Don’t you think I know that?” Lyon launched a shower of needle-like magic with a wave of his hand, countering the charging dragon once more, an angered squall of a roar piercing his ears. “Why are you telling me this?”

_“You know why, child. You won’t stand a ghost of a chance at this rate without aid.”_

Lyon finally caught on, rolling from a bite that badly grazed his shoulder. “No. No, no, no. I will not allow this.”

_“As if you have any choice in the matter to begin with.”_

“And my choice is to not give you my body-agh!”

Lyon was finally caught, grabbed by the insistent jaws of Loptous, serrated teeth slicing through flesh. He was shaken and thrown into the wall like some dog’s chew toy, winded and possibly sporting a bruised rib or two. He was picked up again by the leg this time, hanging upside down as Julius approached.

“What was that about underestimating your opponent?” the red-haired prince taunted, grabbing a fistful of Lyon’s hair and making the bleeding prince look at him. “I’m the only one who gets to make the threats here.”

_Another memory resurfaced from the past, this time with Ephraim. Lyon's dark magic caught the lance user in a chokehold, with Lyon practically crushing his chin with a hand. “Ephraim, I have grown stronger,” he whispered to the struggling Renais prince. “Much stronger. I have you here in my grasp, where you can’t do anything, even if you wanted to. I wonder… if this how you feel everytime you fight?”_

_His other hand, clawed, traced a fine red line that stopped right at Ephraim’s Adam’s apple. “The feeling of power of someone else’s life… is this what it means to dominate? I want to know…” His hold on Ephraim tightened, a choked gasp escaping him. “Let me start with you-”_

Lyon panted as he purged that memory from his head as well, eyeing Arvis’ son weakly. The parallels of then… and now… how uncanny...

_ “Having second thoughts, child?”  _ the Demon King asked. Lyon could practically feel the weight of the king on his back.  _ “Or would you like to sit here and take the beating?” _

 

“I said  _ no! _ ” Lyon shouted, too late to catch himself from speaking aloud. Julius looked at him with possibly the most incredulous look a man could give.

 

“Are… are you talking to yourself?” He scoffed, pushing his head away and letting Loptous fling him at the damaged wall again. “You really are a freak.”

 

Lyon crumpled upon hitting the wall, slumping pathetically to the ground in a heap. His vision grew bleary, and his head was a stone’s throw away from collapsing inward. He attempted to push himself up, but his body… his body was refusing to move.

Was this… was this over? Twice in a row now, he was humiliated, kicked around… wanting to prove his worth…

Pointless. All of it. Pointless. 

He truly was as Julius said: a freak that didn’t look or act like anything a prince should be. He wasn’t meant to be here.

_ He wasn’t meant to be alive _ .

The Demon King, being who he was in the prince’s mind, was privy to these thoughts running through his conscious. He grumbled, having it up to here with Lyon’s self-loathing. It was good for him when he was going against Ephraim -- he manipulated those negative feelings into power, power that pushed Lyon forward to accomplish his goals, power that could have beaten that child of Renais. 

But he was not fighting the Renais twins, nor was he fighting anyone worth his time. He was fighting a lizard owned by an edgy teen that was in over his head and had cockiness as large as the Fell Dragon itself. 

_ “Enough, child,”  _ his voice boomed.  _ “I will take it from here if you are unable.” _

“H-huh? N-no, no! You can’t-!” Lyon cried weakly, his spirit slowly being overtaken, a burning cold swallowing him, his vision going dark… going  _ malicious… _

_ “I can and I  _ will,” was Formortiis’ formidable growl, a growl that would have rocked the very earth.  “ _ This fight will drag on until you are bleeding to death, and I am in no mood for games. Your spirit will slumber while I take care of the trash.” _

 

“N-no…” His spirit felt like it was being smothered by a heavy blanket, and he grew awfully lethargic, eyes fading to a solid shade of purple. “I...I-I… so… tired…ah.”

 

Limp went the prince, and Julius looked on a few moments more in confusion before bursting out in laughter. “Look at him, Loptous!” he said to the dragon. “Look! Fallen before me like the cur he is! Haha, and he thought he stood a chance!”

 

As the seemingly victorious red mage celebrated his victory, Zephyr’s grip on her jacket tightened. She knew Lyon wasn’t the strongest… but she thought he could do it. She honestly thought so…

“Oh, Lyon…” Zephyr sniffed, hurt quivering in her tone, her hand that held Breidablik tightening. This was entirely her fault, she should have... “I’m sorry… I should have stopped you…”

Ares’ face was full of disgust, all directed towards the red-haired prince. “His behavior is nothing short of diabolical,” he stated. “Toying with Lyon like that… makes me wonder if the dragon is really all at fault for that behavior and not his upbringing…”

Arvis, holding a somberful Summoner around the waist comfortingly, turned to Ares with a withering glare. “As if your upbringing was any better.”

“You haven’t the right to judge my son, Duke of Grannvale,” Eldigan rumbled, his stoic disposition replaced with a fierce expression befitting of the Lionheart title.   
  
“Such hypocrisy for such a devout knight,” was the Duke’s rebuke. “Then again, Sigurd was the same way before he died-”

“Do not speak of him in vain, you scoundrel!” Eldigan hissed, a hand on the pommel of Mystletainn. “He trusted you, and you took that trust and burned it away!”

_ ‘Maybe I shouldn’t have told him of what happened to his friend when he asked,’  _ the Summoner thought regretfully. Zephyr shivered as her belly warmed to a mild heat, not unlike the temperature of a heating pad. When she touched it, her fingers grazed Arvis’. That’s when she realized with a shock of horror Arvis’ magic was gearing up for a battle, and it was only getting hotter. She gripped Breidablik, ready to intervene. “You two, enough-”

Something struck her and everyone else then, something very, very grim. It made her heated body drop to an abysmal cold, and right then she felt her stomach fill with a sense of ugly dread. The walls’ shadows seems to be moving like those near the library when she went to help Lyon… almost alive…

Then she looked to Lyon, and saw the reason why.

  
  


_ “Only a fool laughs at an unfinished battle.” _

 

Formortiis had arrived.

 

* * *

 

 

And with his entrance, the tables would turn, if the Demon King had anything to say about it.

Julius blinked, as did Loptous, taking a step back. This new surge of power, this… this feeling… what was this kid up to? “Taunting me again, Lyon?” he said with another laugh. “Someone’s cocky.”

“Lyon” chuckled, at first quietly, then uproariously in open mouthed laughter, a hand holding his chest from how hard he was laughing, bouncing off the arena walls. It was at this point in time that Julius’ smirk ceased, and he instead became put off with this new behavior. “What’s so funny?”

_ “I find it amusing that you think me weak,”  _ Formortiis answered after he calmed.  _ “You and that bag of scales couldn’t even compare. In fact, I’ll give you an opportunity to come at me with the first move. That’s incentive enough to prove yourself if you think my opinion is wrong.” _

Loptous’ eyes flashed malevolently as an infuriated Julius spat, “You annoying bastard! I’ll show you what it means to mess with me!”  
  
The dragon roared in agreement, and charged, jaws agape and ready to strike. Formortiis merely grinned as Loptous was feet away…

And he slammed a palm into its snout, stopping it right in its tracks. The force of the movement hadn’t even made the demon flinch, but it did make Julius stumble due to his shared connection with the dragon. His eyes were wide in disbelief. Where was this strength before? And where had it come from?!

_ “Disappointing,”  _ was the other red mage’s voice, dripping with disdain.  _ “My turn.” _

The Demon King took his other hand -- now with razor sharp nail tips -- ripped into Loptous’ lower jaw, and tore apart its tongue in one swift stroke.

The following screams of agony from both dragon and prince were sure to make any hardy war-vet shaken (and those of the audience quite mortified), Loptous flailing about with a mouth sputtering inky darkness. Julius was down on his knees, covering his mouth as he glared hatefully at the mage. Droplets of blood spattered the ground from his wounded mouth - his tongue was spared from the same fate as Loptous’ own, but the pain was enough to leave him with a few cuts. “Gah… monster…”  
  
The Demon King inspected the tongue some more, tossing it aside where it dissolved into black ash. He walked up to Julius, his aura building as the shadows on the wall seemed to gravitate toward to the two. _“Monster? No. I am a_ devil. _”_

He proceeded to grab Julius by the hair, slam his head, and drag him along the dirt, tossing him to a nearby wall with a resounding crash.

Ishtar hopped from her seat, coming to a sliding stop next to the Summoner, Reinhardt by her side. “Zephyr, we must stop this match,” Ishtar urged, the faintest sign of panic in her eyes. “If this continues, Julius will…”

  
“I’m trying, Ishtar,” Zephyr replied with rising fear in her voice, trying her hardest to power on Breidablik, the divine weapon refusing to even glow, “but Breidablik won’t work. It’s like… its powers are locked. I can’t teleport Lyon or Julius away!”  
  
“My magic is locked away as well,” Reinhardt added worriedly, little streaks of lightning that would’ve been explosive going kaput upon execution. “My Dire Thunder will not respond to me.”  
  
Ishtar turned to Arvis, whose book didn’t even light a single ember. “What is the meaning of this?” he growled. “My hellfire… gone?”  
  
The Goddess of Thunder felt for the lightning in her veins… only to find it all but disappeared, as if smothered in a blanket. “No…” she whispered, looking down at her hands, unable to believe this was truly happening. “What’s happened?”

Even the two horsemen of Chagall grew concerned. “All of your magic is sealed?” Eldigan said with astonishment. “I don’t recall anyone placing any seals to prohibit magic. Otherwise, Lyon and Julius wouldn’t be able to use it either.”

Ares flinched when he saw Formortiis give a vicious kick to Loptous’ jaw, and delivering a powerful punch to his host’s stomach, the resulting blow leaving Julius hacking for air. “The only possibility that I can think of is either because of Loptous’ influence… or Lyon’s.”

  
“Either way, Lady Ishtar is right,” Reinhardt said, Loptous attempting snatch the Demon King in his jaws once more, backhanded easily by a glancing blow. Julius was bleeding, wounded, and sporting what looked like a fractured arm. “We cannot sit here and watch this one-sided skirmish go on.”  


“Easier said than done, Reinhardt,” Zephyr said. “Stopping those two would be like separating two tigers-”

And for the umpteenth time that day, Zephyr would be interrupted by the sight of a falling Julius about to land right in the stands. “Everyone, watch out!”

Julius crashed right in the middle of the center aisle, resting at Ishtar’s feet. He groaned painfully, looking up at her with weary eyes as he made to sit up with his working arm. “I-Ishtar? 

“I’m here, Julius,” Ishtar said, the slightest hint of vulnerability in her tone, kneeling down to support him and set him upright. “I’m here, don’t worry, I’m here…”  
  
Formortiis landed with a butterfly’s touch seconds later, a fiendish smile etched in his face and reaching his jaded purple eyes. Blood caked his fingers, hands, and somehow some got on and in his _mouth_. _“I didn’t know he had a lover,”_ he chided. _“How touching.”_

“You’ve done enough, Lyon,” Ishtar said defensively, holding Julius closer to her. At this close of a distance, she could sense… this terrible energy from the Gradian prince. It was otherworldly... “This battle is over, leave him be.”  
  
_“And yet none of you said anything when Lyon was getting bombarded by this daft fool?”_ the Demon King countered. He scoffed haughtily, pushing his cape out of the way. _“When he was being chewed up and spat out by that lizard he calls a dragon? The hypocrisy of you mortals is astounding, especially coming from you of all people,_ Lady Ishtar. _”_

“You think we didn’t try? Our powers were sealed!” Zephyr bit back. “Yet you won’t admit to that, won’t you, Demon King?”

“Demon King?” came the resounding voice of the others in unison, barring Julius. He had since passed out. 

_ “...Perhaps I did. I didn’t want anyone interfering with my match.” _

“Then you’ve played yourself by wrongly calling us out,” Arvis pointed out bitterly.   
  
_“My point still stands, Duke. I wasn’t in control when Lyon had the first round. That was all his doing, all of his moves, all of him being in his_ own state of mind _. I had no influence in the beginning. You still could have saved him from being there when things looked too much for him. And nothing was ever done. How pitiful. Not even the chivalrous Lionheart stepped in.”_

“You dare mock my father, demon?” Ares snapped at Formortiis. 

_ “You dare stand up to me for your father’s actions and yours?”  _ Formortiis snapped back, his aura flaring for a brief second, watching with triumph as the Black Knight stood down.

He snorted, taking a sideways glance at the Summoner.  _ “I’ll speak to you later, Summoner,”  _ his voice promised darkly in her mind.  _ “But for now…” _

_ “I bid adieu to you mortals,”  _ he proclaimed aloud.  _ “Until next we meet of course, hehe.” _

With a brief flash of light, Lyon’s features were returned to normal, and everyone’s powers fixed into place as they were beforehand, as the Demon King disappeared… 

...for the time being, anyway.


	6. Support and Judgement

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was meant to come out a lot earlier and the following chapter was to come out on Christmas (because, you know, Winter Festival and all)... but things didn't go according to plan, and I wanted to give this chapter a lot of attention. 
> 
> Also, just a warning about nightmare elements in this chapter and a certain demon king being the cause of them. Next chapter will break the angst spell, I promise. :P

* * *

 

Chapter 6

Support and Judgement

The last week and a half was a disaster for Zephyr.

Aside from having to rebuild the ruined arena (the parts that were critically damaged when Formortiis threw Julius around like a ragdoll), the aftermath was so much worse: Julius was out of commission for a few days, throwing a wrench in her strategy for a battle with Embla and having to improv practically on the spot, barely scraping a victory by a hair's breadth. Needless to say, Commander Anna was not pleased at all with the situation, and gave Zephyr quite the stern lecture on “keeping the Heroes on a leash”.

And to top it off, she hadn’t seen Lyon at all during that time.

Zephyr fell atop her bed with a _fwump,_ releasing a sigh that held all the grief that laid on her shoulders. If only she had stopped that match… if only she didn’t allow it to even happen… if, if, _if_ … it was always an if. It was a tactician’s worst fear. And it can be costly to rely on it.

In her case, it almost costed a terrible loss and her standing among the Heroes.

And maybe, her friendship with the prince of Grado.

That thought alone nearly brought tears to her eyes, and quickly wiped them away before anymore could be made. She had been fond of the shy prince, and seeing him steadily getting used to his surroundings made her feel confident as to her abilities of a Summoner - if she could keep the likes of Julius and other crazy villains and heroes from wreaking havoc, then this was nothing. Of course, nothing in life was ever that easy to begin with…

A knock on the door broke her from such morose thinking, and she idly turned her eyes to it as she answered, “Come in.” She figured it was a matter of time before someone came to check in on her. She had taken to being reclusive for the last two days once the initial storm had passed.

The door swung open, and Zephyr’s expression brightened upon seeing that familiar lavender cape. “Lyon! Am I glad to see-”

She quieted when she eyed his face, and joy gave way to terror. “Oh, crap…”

 _“Miss me?”_ “Lyon” said with a sharp grin, kicking the door shut and locking it behind him. _“I told you I wanted to talk, Summoner.”_

“After the stunt you pulled? What could there be to talk to me about? Besides making Lyon’s life a living hell?” Zephyr asked, feeling for Breidablik - if nothing else worked against this fiend, this would.

 _“That’s subjective.”_ The Demon King grabbed her hand, relishing the panicked gasp that left her lips. He leaned in to her neck, utilizing his weight to his advantage to keep her pinned on the bed.

 _“Hrrmm…”_ Formortiis rumbled. He inhaled her scent, licking his lips audibly, eyes hazy with something indiscernible. But if Zephyr had to hazard a guess, it might have been possession. She’d rather not think of any of the alternatives.

 _“Your scent… you don’t smell like the other Heroes here. Haa… it’s different, otherworldly.”_ He took another whiff, his grin practically splitting his face in two and showing those wonderfully sharp  fangs in his mouth that were a dull red at the tips. “ _It lacks the reek of war and blood that drenches the others… but I presume that is a given, assuming your world is in the far flung future of peace…”_

“You can say that…” she said awkwardly, not knowing what to make of Formortiis’ actions-- or if she should try to resist; those fangs and claws could rip Loptous a new one, and she wasn’t keen on having those turned on her. “War still persists… but compared to the conflicts of the worlds the Heroes come from, my world is incredibly peaceful.”

 _“I see. That also explains it.”_ He took yet another breath of her scent, letting it linger in his nose, remembering it on his tongue. _“I don’t understand what Lyon, or anyone, sees in you. You may be a mortal from a different world, but a mortal is a mortal regardless where they’re from. A bag of hypocritical flesh.”_

“And yet you were defeated by one,” Zephyr retorted.

She immediately regretted that when Formortiis slammed her on the bed’s headrest. Her skull was sent ringing, and she was sure she had a small fracture or two. _“I do not need your clever comments_ _to prove a point, Summoner,”_ Formortiis grumbled. _“Lyon was held back by his own feelings, by his mortality. That is the only reason he lost to that barbarian and his sister. The fact he lost to that lamb of a princess is a testament to how weak he truly is without me…”_

Zephyr couldn’t help releasing a painful grunt, one eye squeezed shut while the other was trying to focus itself on her attacker. “You’re wrong… Demon King,” she spat weakly. “You’re wrong. He’s been growing… the fact he wanted to take on Julius, the fact he resisted your advances in the nightmare you trapped him in… mortals aren’t as weak as you make them to be. They can do amazing things, no matter how small.”

 _“Ridiculous musings from a ridiculous mortal.”_ The Demon King loosened his grip on her windpipe, but only slightly. _“However, I am not here to ramble about such pretentious things. I am here to warn you of that edgy brat with the dragon in his book. Julian, I think was his name?”_

The Summoner found herself wanting to roll her eyes, had she not been in so much pain. “Julius, Demon King. Julius. But why warn me?”

_“He’s more of a threat to my host and to that extent myself, since the Sacred Stones no longer exist in this world to bring my body back. If Lyon is defeated, I will cease to exist as well. But the reason I say this is because of Julius’... unsavory trait of… possession.”_

Zephyr blinked. “Possession?” she echoed. “I know that he can be a bit of loon, and sometimes he can be a little overprotective, but… I never saw it as possession.”

 _“Make no mistake, Summoner. Julius is a nasty one. Even I am not as wanting as he is. At least I take what I need. He takes what he_ wants. _And after the last match in the arena, him and Loptous are practically stark-raving mad. They want revenge…”_

“...but?”

_“They are biding their time. Like an animal ousted from his territory, they will lick their wounds and stay low, regaining their strength over time. And during this period, Lyon will drop his guard. And that’s when they’ll clench victory. They get rid of the competition, and seize you as their prize.”_

“What?” She didn’t know if what the Demon King was saying was true or not-- trusting him was like trusting a serial killer with your life -- but… it did have some merit. Julius was a rather unstable time bomb. He was really only calm when he was with her (again, subjective), or when he was with Ishtar, the latter case he was practically like a puppy, close to her heels and willing to help out in any way he can. Even when he was with his father, he genuinely acted like the biggest jerk in the world.

If that was really the deal, as unreal as it may have sounded coming from the _Demon King_ of all people, then… “How? How am I going to stop that?”

_“I have some wards in place around Lyon that’ll make him rather unappealing to attack. It should make Loptous look the other way for now, but I can’t have those up forever. If I had my real body, this wouldn’t be a problem.”_

Formortiis looked down at her, tilting his head. _“As for you… hm. As Summoner, I can’t necessarily place the same wards on you. Would be inconvenient, as much as I hate to admit. But… I can make a seal around you.”_

“I think I’d rather take my chances,” Zephyr said, finding her grasp on Breidablik’s handle at last. Before she could even use it, Formortiis slapped it out of her hand, and decidedly trapped both of her hands with a ring of magic.

 _“Foolish child. You think that toy will help in this dream?”_ Formortiis sneered, a laugh rumbling through his chest as he watched the Summoner struggle. _“In this realm of dreams, I am king.”_

His words didn’t register with Zephyr until seconds later. “Wait, _dream?_ ” 

Formortiis actually looked surprised, scratching the back of his head. _“Ah. Looks like I’ve said too much. Oh well. That gives me liberty to finish what I need to start before you try to wake up.”_

“N-no! Stop! Let me go!” Zephyr yelled, squirming as much she could within her confines. Lyon’s body was a lot heavier than she suspected, and Formortiis forcing most of the weight on her chest did her no favors.

 _“Sorry, Summoner.”_ Formortiis’ mouth rested on her neck now, teeth grazing dark skin. “ _I take no orders from a mortal.”_

With that, he gave no warning as he crunched down on her throat, smiling vindictively as wails and shrieks filled his ears, the tang of iron from his victim’s blood coating his tongue and teeth. His grip only tightened the more his victim struggled, biting deeper into her flesh. A purple ring of energy coalesced into her skin, right in the shape of the Demon King’s face, pulsing brightly.

When he had his fill, he unlatched his jaws from her bloodied neck, licking his lips with not a care. The satisfying rumble that reverberated from his chest spoke of his enjoyment. _“My job is done,”_ he declared triumphantly. _“Sweet dreams, Summoner.”_

He disappeared in a hellish portal, the scene fading to black as Zephyr choked on her own coagulated blood-

\---

“Zephyr! Zephyr!”

The Summoner was awoken to the sound of her own gasps… and to the new voice. Eyes wide, sweat drenching her face and hair plastered to her forehead, she targeted the subject of which had that saved her from the terrible dream….

The swath of red hair and fanciful clothes was the first thing she noticed, but the second thing that caught her eye was the group of dragons peering inside her doorway-- specifically, Tiki, Nowi, Myrrh, and Fae.

 

“Ugh… good god, what happened?” Zephyr rasped, carefully sitting up and putting on her glasses. She looked up at her savior, then at the dragons at the doorway… and saw her door, or what remained of it rather, laying sadly on the ground, the doorknob melted, and the exterior clawed apart. “...and who in their right mind knocked down the door?”

“S-sorry, Zephyr!” Fae apologized, her feathery face wilting the slightest bit. “The door was locked, and we… we couldn’t find another way to open it… Arbis just burned the handle.”

“ _Arvis,_ ” corrected the Duke with a sigh. He turned back to Zephyr, worry in his eyes. “Gods… I thought you were being murdered with how you were screaming. What in the name of Fjalar happened?”

Zephyr’s brow furrowed. “What? Screaming?”

Then everything in that accursed dream came rushing back to her like hurricane winds, and she instinctively felt her neck where Formortiis bit her. To her shock, there was no evidence of anything that had taken place. Not a single tooth puncture or drop of blood to be felt or seen. Was… that it? Was everything just an awful dream? The Demon King had made it seem like he was going to do something to her… besides the bite, anyway. The pain those fangs brought unto her resurfaced with a rippling shiver.

“...It was just a nightmare,” she told Arvis after a moment. “Really bad one, hadn’t had one like it in years. It might have been from the leftover stress from last week.”

The duke sighed. He figured as much. “You really need to let go sometimes, Zephyr,” Arvis told her with a shake of his head. “The last thing we need right now is a Summoner tormented by the ghosts of her dreams.”

“I’ve been trying, Arvis.” The Summoner sighed, her eyes the weariest they had been. “I’ve been trying. But life’s been throwing curveballs that even I, a tactician that’s helped win battles in a war that isn’t even my own, can’t evade.”

She flopped on the bed, feeling the beginnings of tears welling in the back of her eyes. “I… I may have lost favor with a lot of good people over the last couple of days… you and Lyon included. I know that battle must have been harder on you since you had to cover for a missing man… I’m sorry. I feel so inadequate and- ”

She stopped her spiel when she smelled the scent of burning fabric, and she yelped when she saw it was coming from her sleeve. “Ah! Arvis! We talked about this!” she yelled, furiously putting out the ember before it spread.

“And we also talked about you being self-deprecating,” countered Arvis severely, flicking away any remaining sparks on his finger. “I’m having none of that, and neither should you… nor Lyon. Yes, I gave him the talk too, but he’s taken it harder than you have. Haven’t seen him since.”

“You haven’t?” Zephyr said, almost in a whisper, hands clenching fitfully, to which Arvis shook his head.

Zephyr sighed, rubbing a hand across her face. “I knew I should have done something more to help. Now, he’s out there, alone and… god knows how what’s been happening with him since last week...”

“I’m sure he’ll come around, Zephyr.” The redhead breathed deeply through his nose as he contemplated his next words. “What happened last week couldn’t be helped with everything else that occured in the arena,” said Arvis. “You did what you could with the hand that you were dealt, even if that hand was a terrible one… but you still managed to come out the victor. That alone is something to be proud of.”

“Even if it means… all those lives… my allies…?” _Lyon?_ was an added thought to that line, unspoken, but hung in the air.

“Zephyr, sacrifices are necessary in war… and in life. To be unwilling to make them is to be unable to move forward and do what is just.” The Duke clapped a hand on her shoulder, wiping a tear from her cheek. “It can be difficult to make them, that’s true…” he went on, tone softening. “Truth be told, when I decided to take over Grannvale… the knowledge of having to kill Sigurd… I did have my doubts. But I knew if I had to accomplish my goals, I had to do what I must.”

Zephyr blinked away her tears, surprise etched in her face. She was always under the impression that decision of his was done with no second thoughts. “Do… you still have regrets? About what you’ve done? About how the other crusaders see you?”

“...” Arvis’ crimson gaze met hers, and for a split second Zephyr thought she saw a glimmer of… despair within. “The aftermath was treacherous… but I have since moved on. As should you. Cast away yesterday’s trifles and tribulations, and look to the future to begin anew.”

He stood up, offering his hand to pull her up from the bed. “Now, let’s go. I’ve come to inform you we got to prepare for the Winter Festival, and since you’re the Summoner, it’s practically mandatory you’re there. And the girls want you and your… music tastes in it.”

“The girls? You mean…?” Zephyr indicated the watching dragons outside, who had grown quiet in the midst of Arvis’ speech.

Arvis smiled with a chuckle. “Exactly. Now, are you in?”

“I don’t see why not-”

“YAY! LET’S GO GUYS, LET’S GO!” shouted an excited Nowi, flapping her wings and snatching an unsuspecting Summoner by the arm, the latter screaming as the dragons took off.

Unfortunately, she ended up taking the Valflame user with her, the man yelling at being dragged in the air. “Nowi! Put me down! A-AAAH!”

 Needless to say, Arvis and flying did not mix.

\---

Meanwhile, Lyon had been keeping to himself in the wake of last week’s events, staying primarily in his room and hardly coming out unless he had to eat. He hadn’t seen the Summoner in that time, and the only person that visited him was Arvis, who had given him such a burning talk that he might as well have been burned by his Valflame tome.

Never again. He almost killed a man because he wasn’t strong enough to stop the Demon King from doing what he wanted. As much as he disliked Julius, he only wanted to prove a point, not to maim. When he had come to from his spiritual slumber, when he had seen the aftermath of the fight, the faces of those that had been in attendance to the brutality of his actions… Julius’ slumped battered and bloodied body by Ishtar’s feet, the taste of the Loptous user’s blood in his mouth and crusting his fingers-

Lyon gagged, nausea swamping his body. Gods… what did he do to deserve this? This was disgusting. Truely, abhorrently disgusting. He was undeserving of the Summoner’s kindness, of her hospitality. If he had to protect her, he would stay away from her. It was the only true way to prevent past mistakes from happening again.

 _“You can’t hide forever, you know,”_  came the voice of the Demon King, his presence bearing down on him like a set of lead weights. _“Evntually, you will be needed, whether you like it or not.”_

“I don’t need you of all people telling me that,” snapped Lyon bitterly. “I just… I just need to be away from people… away from Zephyr…”

_“Well, that’s rather unfortunate, considering I paid her a visit when you last dreamt.”_

“....What did you do?”

 _“Me?”_ the Demon King chuckled at the icy tone Lyon gave him. _“Nothing. I just wanted to talk to her. She’s a saucy one, Zephyr. Kind, caring… said good things about you.”_ A pause. _“I did place a ward on her for her safety._ That _was something she didn’t want, but luckily those scars won’t be seen in real life.”_

“Scars?” Lyon narrowed his eyes. “ _Scars?_ What did you _do,_ Demon King?!” 

_“I implanted a ward on her neck to stave away potential danger that comes from Julius is all. Granted, she did have to… suffer a little. If she didn’t struggle, then maybe she wouldn’t have had as much emotional trauma.”_

“What?!”

_“Calm, child. She hasn’t suffered physical injury from what I’ve done. She won’t even realize that she has the ward until she comes in contact with Julius. And he’s still recovering, so that won’t be an issue.”_

“That’s not the point!” Lyon yelled. “You hurt her! You shouldn’t have-argh!”

Lyon fell to his knees, his head suddenly wracked with a fiery sensation, as if someone had pierced him with a sword fresh from the forge. _“Child. Enough of your whining,”_ Formortiis growled impatiently. _“You should be grateful that I even decided to do this for her. She’ll be fine so long as nothing interferes with it.”_

“Ggrh… you dastard…” Lyon spat, struggling to regain his footing.

_“Call me what you like. It won’t change things.”_

The dark mage finally managed to stand, then he started when he heard a knock on the door. “Lyon? Are you busy by chance?” was the voice from behind the door, and Lyon couldn’t believe who he was hearing. “It is I, Reinhardt.”

 _“Reinhardt?”_ Formortiis mumbled, and all at once the pressure that he had relayed on his host stopped. _“Well, well, well. What a surprise guest. I wonder what he’s here for.”_

He faded away from the subconscious as Lyon slowly opened the door, revealing the leader of Friega’s right hand himself. “Sir Reinhardt,” Lyon began, letting him in, watching his every move. “What brings you here?”

“I come on behalf of Lady Ishtar,” he stated as he entered, taking a seat in one of the desk chairs, crossing a leg over the other. “She would have come personally… but for now she is tending to the needs of her fiance.”

He gave a polite cough before continuing, “Lyon… those events of the week prior… I understand why you would want to stay out of view of people. I cannot speak for how the others feel of the situation… but I can say for certain that Lady Ishtar knows you are not at fault for your actions. She doesn’t blame you… and she wishes for you to not blame yourself.”

Lyon blinked. “She’s… she’s not angry with me?” he said quietly.

“She isn’t upset with you… but rather, at the… Demon King inside you. She curses him for putting Julius through that… and not being able to do anything herself.” Reinhardt’s gaze hardened. “Which begs the question: is he here now?”

 _“Why yes, I am,”_ came the warped reply, a grin showing a mouthful of fangs. That grin disappeared as Lyon regained control, a hand grasping his heart as he panted. “Gods, Sir Reinhardt, my apologies. I hadn’t meant for you to see that. He… likes to say hello at very inconvenient times…”

“I see…” Reinhardt noted, letting go of his sword hilt. It was a reflex that he grabbed it, but he never knew. The Demon King was unpredictable...

Lyon took a seat on the bed, closing his eyes. “As much as I appreciate Lady Ishtar’s kind words… I am not worthy of them.”

“How so?”

“Because… I couldn’t control that blasted Demon King from going out there and… beating Julius.” The prince of Grado wiped at his eyes, purposely looking away from the Thunder’s Sword.  “I only wanted to fight him because of the way he was treating the Summoner. I couldn’t stand there and watch him get away with that. But because I wasn’t strong enough to take him down on my own… the Demon King...”

He paused as he choked on his words. “I am sorry. It truly was my fault that Lady Ishtar’s fiance was hurt and I take full responsibility for it-”

“ _Lyon.”_

Lyon looked up at Reinhardt’s commanding tone. “The only one to blame here is the Demon King. You didn’t do that damage. If anyone has to take responsibility for any of what happened last week, it’s that thing.”

Lyon felt Formortiis’ rumbling laughter in his head, as if he thought all of what Reinhardt had said was a joke.

“You say that with such confidence,” Lyon murmured. “Yet… what would the others say… what do _you_ say?”

“Lady Ishtar’s thoughts are my own,” Reinhardt replied readily. “And I am sure Zephyr does not blame you either. She sensible enough to see that you aren’t fault.”

He stood up as he began to take his leave. “Lyon, like I said earlier, I cannot attest as to how the others feel. But you shouldn’t worry over their feelings. Focus on bettering yourself, and use that experience to push forward. You will only keep yourself back if your mind stays in the past… and on your mistakes.”

 _‘Reminds me of what Arvis said,’_ Lyon thought. A little too on the nose. “...thank you, Sir Reinhardt. And Lady Ishtar too.”

“I’ll be sure to give her your gratitude. Be well, Lyon. May good fortune shine upon you.”

As Reinhardt finally left, the prince mulled over his words. Reinhardt was right. Arvis was right. To stay caught up in the past meant he couldn’t move forward. And placing the blame on himself was really not helping his case. Avoiding people, avoiding _Zephyr_ …

He couldn’t allow who he was or what was inside him dictate his life.

He got up from his place on the bed, grabbing his crown and tome. Formortiis, whom had taken to snoozing, mumbled, _“Oh? Going somewhere for once?”_

“...”

Lyon simply walked out without another word.

Time to visit the Summoner.


	7. Festive Happenings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drama ensues, lessons are learned... and fun is had, of course.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHEW. 
> 
> This chapter had me stuck for nearly a week and a half. And it was primarily on one scene in particular (see end notes) that I didn't know how to write out. I had to write and rewrite to see which scenario made sense, and almost all of them just never worked. Just this whole overall chapter was a tough one to fight with, but in the end I had fun with it. A lot of fun.
> 
> Happy New Years guys! Hope the holidays have been great for everyone!

 

* * *

 

Chapter 7

Festive Happenings!

_ “Do you even know where the Summoner is, child?” _

“I have a general idea where she might be.”

_ “Really? It’s not like you’ve been wandering the halls for the last ten minutes like a lamb lost from its flock.” _

Lyon grunted in irritation, turning around another hallway to find nothing there. It was true that they had indeed been searching for a while. Zephyr wasn’t present in her room, but it looked as though she had just left ( _ “Seems like company came for her after the dream…”  _ chortled Formortiis as he noted the mess.). “If that is the case, why don’t you track her?”

A mild pain, like an electrical charge, shot through his mind, and he hissed.  _ “Do not forget who you are sharing this body with. I may not be able to afford my true form, but I will harm you in ways that made you wish you had stayed dead.” _

“Believe me, death would have been such a blessing if it meant I never had to deal with you again,” was Lyon’s sour response.

He continued his search in earnest now, ignoring the ringing ache in his skull. This wasn’t the first time the Demon King had smote him in his moments of ire, and it wouldn’t be the last. Formortiis truly was a wicked fiend.

Before he turned a corner, Formortiis spoke up again.  _ “Child, stay alert. I sense Loptous nearby.” _

Lyon’s head perked, his previous attitude taking form into immediate caution. The last thing he needed right now was another confrontation with Arvis’ son. “Loptous? Where?” 

_ “About fifty feet away from this spot.”  _ The demon hummed in confusion, something Lyon wasn’t used to hearing.  _ “Julius is there… but his spirit is muffled. I suspect Loptous may have taken hold of him and is now scouring the area for us. His spirit reeks of his intentions…” _

Lyon gulped. He didn’t want to know what those intentions were, but he had a faint idea as to what some of them might be. “What do I do? I’m not in the mood to try my luck with those wards…”

_ “I’m surprised they haven’t kicked in yet. He obviously knows where we are, and thus should immediately detect the wards. Either he’s found a way to bypass their effects or he’s ignoring them entirely. How annoying…” _

Loptous drew ever closer to them, his footsteps echoing in the empty hall, and Lyon found himself looking for cover to hide from the menace. If the wards weren’t working, he would be faced with the dark dragon’s wrath. “All right, got any better ideas?” Lyon asked quickly. 

_ “Yes. We’ll take that open window  _ \- Formortiis briefly highlighted said window with a violet light about ten feet over Lyon’s head - _ and escape to the next opening above. It’ll take us to the upper floors.” _

Lyon blinked incredulously. “Are you mad? How am I supposed to get up there?”

The Demon King growled impatiently.  _ “Of course, I forgot you don’t know the technical aspects of your tome. Hold on. I’ll lend you some of my power instead. Use it to enter the window. Make it quick, child. Loptous’ approach is drawing nearer.” _

“Wait, wait, what-ah!” 

From his back sprouted iridescent violet wings that shone with a crystalline tint and looked similar in shape of a wyvern. He looked at them in wonder, the magic coursing through them powerful. Such was the might of the ruler of demons.

**“Formortiis, come out~”** said a familiar voice around the corner, and Lyon felt his blood run cold.  **“Don’t be shy~** **_Come out and face me like the spineless coward you are!_ ** **”**

“Gods!” Lyon hissed, not wasting anymore time-- he willed the magic thrumming through the ethereal webbing of his wings to move him, and he suddenly found himself launching through the open window at high speed, nearly slamming into the glass just right over his head as he exited to safety. He uncontrollably braked, turned, and immediately smashed into the next window that led into the upper floors, more specifically the baking room. Glass rained as he fell unceremoniously and tumbled, coming to a rolling stop on his stomach. 

“A-aah…” groaned Lyon painfully as he attempted to stand, wings limp by his side. Everything hurt, and he probably wouldn’t attempt flying like that again. “By the mercy of Naga…”

_ “Too close, child. Stay low. Loptous may yet follow us here.” _

“I do not doubt it.” Lyon finally steadied himself on his feet, looking around the room. Why would Formortiis tell him to go here? There was nothing about this room that was special -- in fact, he was surprised there wasn’t people present. The Winter Festival was rather a busy event, and every kitchen would be needed to make the numerous sweets and goods that would be eaten. Perhaps it had been reserved for someone...

The door behind him clicked open, and he spun around to become face to face with  _ Valter _ of all people, Narcian by his side.

_ “Ah, finally, a familiar face that’s actually welcoming,”  _ Formortiis said as the two practically did several double-takes. The shock on their faces must have been palpable, as Narcian asked him, “What’s wrong? You know him?”

“He is my liege, Narcian,” Valter said, for the first time ever looking rather unsure of himself. “I… I was not aware you had been present all this time, Prince Lyon.”

He dropped to a knee, but Lyon shook his head, finally shaking out of his shock. “Please rise, Valter,” he told the Moonstone. “We can be a little informal in regards to our surroundings.” 

“As you wish.” Valter rose up, Narcian practically gawking at the man. “Wait,  _ this  _ is your prince?” Narcian asked, as if he couldn’t believe this scrawny mage could be Valter’s superior.

“Yes. What of it, Narcian?” Valter gave him a sideways glance that Lyon could easily see as nothing short of predatory. Some things never changed with him, the prince of Grado surmised. 

Narcian, as prideful and stubborn as he was and not one to back away from conflict easily, actually stepped back from the other. “N-nothing, Valter. I hadn’t been aware this was… your prince.”

The green-haired man simply shook his head, mumbling something incomprehensible as to why the Summoner supported the two of them before turning his attention back to the prince.

“What brings you here, Valter?” Lyon asked curiously, shifting his wings subtly as to hide them against his cape. “Do you bake by chance?”

Valter looked almost insulted. “Me? No, my liege, I’d rather die than be forced to cook anything.  _ Narcian  _ was told that the Summoner would be baking something, and he dragged me up here so he could snatch something like the conniving thief that he is.”

“T-thief?!” fumed Narcian, glaring daggers at the taller man. “The audacity! I only wish to dine on the Summoner’s finest craft! I am sure she would understand full-heartedly!”

“Like the time you snatched her biscuits she had been making for breakfast specially made for someone else?”

“Ike didn’t need those! The man already has the appetite of an average militia, one biscuit missing wouldn’t kill him!”

“And yet he almost killed you when you tampered with his meal.”

“He’s a beast, I tell you! No man should harbor such cravings for food! It’s unsavory and barbaric! Mercenaries, the lot of them are the same!” Narcian sighed, rubbing a hand through his golden hair. “Bah, I guess I’ll have to wait for the damned event to start to take something then. Which means I’ll have to prepare post-haste!”

He raced out the door without waiting for his support partner, leaving Valter in the dust. “Tch. As strong as Narcian thinks he is, he is no hunter,” he said once Narcian was out of earshot. “He is a mockery of one, a slightly… stronger mouse wanting to roar like a lion.”

The Moonstone turned once again to Lyon. “So… are you attending the Winter Festival as well, sir? I assumed that was why you were in the baking room.”

“Ah, no, I don’t bake either, at least not very well. I’d burn the place down,” Lyon told him with the faintest smile. “I had just… I had to escape some trouble.”

“Trouble?” Valter raised a brow. “What kind? Tell me where to point my lance, and I shall hunt him down for you, my liege.”

“T-that won’t be necessary, Valter,” Lyon told him quickly. The last person he needed involved in this whole Loptous/Julius debacle was this madman of a wyvern rider, talented as he was. “I… I appreciate your enthusiasm to serve, however. You have my thanks.”

The general’s crooked grin split his face in two. “Anytime.”

Lyon made his way out the room, closing the door behind him, although he made sure to keep his back facing away from Valter. “As for the festival? I would… I would like to go…”

“But?”

“I’m… really, I’m not one for festivities like this. Such huge crowds are not for me, Valter, although I’m sure you can attest to that yourself.”

Valter’s laugh was a deep one. “You know me well, sir. If it weren’t for the tournament they were hosting, I would be staying put doing something much more productive.” He gave Lyon’s shoulder a pat.  “For you perhaps… maybe you should partake in it. I know you may not like crowds… but I hear tell of a special event going on involving the Summoner. And, contrary to what Narcian may think, it’s not baking.”  
  
Lyon blinked. “Really? Do you know what this event entails?”

Valter shook his head. “That, I cannot say. I’ve only heard of this through word of mouth.”

“I see. Thank you anyways.”

His mind was set then. It was pointless now to search for Zephyr when she was busy preparing for the festival. He would meet her there instead, after everything was said and done and she was free…

And…

What would he do? What would he say to her when he finally had the opportunity? What if he couldn’t have the opportunity to do it? The festival was a time of celebration. He was sure Zephyr would have a long night ahead. Maybe she’d be too busy?

_ “Even Zephyr must have breaks in between working alongside the festivities,”  _ Formortiis reminded him.  _ “Just make sure you spot your opening when she does rest and seize it. Hesitation will not work in your favor here.” _

As begrudging as it was, the Demon King was right. This wasn’t Eirika. This was Zephyr. Still kind and sweet, but… her own person. Hesitating wouldn’t be an option. If he did, he probably wouldn’t have the courage to take up this quest.

With that set, he had one more thing to do.

“Valter… would you happen to know anyone knowledgeable on formal attire? I’m afraid the outfit I am fitted with already wouldn’t be appropriate for the festival.”

Lyon would be surprised when Valter responded, “Ah… I know of one. Two of them actually. They’re an odd pair, but… their work is… good. I’ve had to get a suit made from them for something important.” He sneered. “Me and formal wear never went well, and it never will.”

Valter,  _ in a suit?!   _ The mage couldn’t believe his ears (and neither could the Demon King, he was positively flabbergasted). That was something you didn’t hear every day. “Well then, can you take me there? We’ll have plenty of time to properly catch up on the way.”

“Of course, my liege.”

Mere minutes after they left, Maribelle and Ethlyn walked in the room to see the mess strewn about. Maribelle  _ s c r e e c h e d _ in what could possibly amount to the highest amount of scorn any woman could muster.

“NOOO! I can’t bake in a room like this! Whoever set this room up for me must pay!” raged Maribelle. “This is dreadful!”

“Oh, dear,” Ethlyn said, a lot more composed than her partner. “Perhaps we should go see a smithy-”

“RAAAAH!”

“Or not….” Ethlyn promptly sweatdropped.

* * *

 

Meanwhile, back on the lower floors…

**“Bah! That stinking Demon King escaped my grasp! I know he was here! I KNOW it! It reeks of him! GRAAH!”**

Loptous looked about himself, scouring the area where he had detected Formortiis last. He knew he was here. He had been here, those wards trying to deter were a dead giveaway. Too bad the Demon King didn’t know those measly protections didn’t work on dark dragons like himself. He used those same wards in the past!

And now he’s gone, blasted through a freaking window! The wind had carried away his magical trail, and now all he had left was residue!

**“Damn him! Damn him and that runt of flesh he claims host to!** **_Damn them to Arvis’ flames and back!_ ** **I will beat that fool senseless if I see him again!”**

He huffed some more, practically ready to spit fire and tear the place down stone from stone. Fine. If that’s how it was going to be…

**“I’m no good stomping about like this. It’s a waste of energy that I could use later. Julius, rest easy for now. We will have our dues paid in full.”**

_ “We better, you stinking lizard!”  _ came the indignant reply.  _ “I don’t appreciate waking up to this, I hope you know! _

**“You’re one to talk, kid!”**

“Julius!”

Loptous turned to hear the voice of Ishtar nearby. That woman… insistent as ever… he could barely leave the bed without her fretting over something new, having to make an excuse about getting fresh air after staying in that accursed cot for a week. He’d thank the gods for the fact his powers enabled quick healing for his host… but that would mean thanking Naga, and he could never do that.

He relinquished his hold on his host then, Julius panting quietly upon returning to control. “Yes, Ishtar? Don’t fret, I’m here,” he called back in the most innocent voice, moving to her voice.

Soon. Soon they would have vengeance.

* * *

 

The Festival arrived sooner than Lyon had hoped. He had arrived in the thick of things, courtesy of Valter winging it to the place before flying to pick up Narcian (his wyvern had been too injured to fly). The air was bitingly nippy, and snow clung to his Christmas themed outfit. His robes were replaced with a red and white suit, with antlers adorning his head and a red cape flowing from behind him, fur lining the edges. His wings had disappeared in part to the Demon King taking back his magic. 

Quite frankly, warm as his clothes should have been, they did little in shielding him from this terrific cold.

As predicted, quite a crowd had formed. Most had gathered into their own group of allies and such, while others, mainly the younger Heroes, snuck some treats away. Many festive lights lit the area in a glorious glow that he wasn’t used to seeing back in his world, although there were many things here that he wasn’t used to seeing. His eyes roved the snowy fields, looking for any trace of the Summoner amongst the crowds.    


_ “Be patient, child. She will come when she is able,”  _ assured Formortiis.  _ “For now… mmhm. Child, to your left. Something smells rather delightful.” _

“Please tell me you’re actually detecting something edible and nothing like souls.”

_ “Demons have to eat as well, you know.”  _ Lyon could hear the shrug in his voice. _ “I’m an unusual case where I do not need souls, as mine is interwoven with yours. And I can live off of whatever you eat as well. It physically does not go to me, but I still taste what you taste. You have great tastes for a mortal, by the way.” _

Lyon stopped walking for a split second. ...was the Demon King  _ actually  _ complimenting him?

_ “Take it as you will,”  _ the demon responded to his thoughts. 

Lyon approached the food stand, the wondrous flavors attacking his nose. They were coming from a brown, ringed pastry he had never seen before, warm and oozing icing from all around. He picked it up and took a bite, both demon and mortal immediately giving the tiniest of moans at how… utterly delicious this was. 

_ “Now  _ this  _ is quite the treat,”  _ the Demon King commented.  _ “Never seen or had anything like it. What in the name of Naga is that?” _

“I wish I knew,” Lyon agreed, taking another bite out of it, not minding the stickiness of the icing attaching itself to his lips. “It looks nothing like what I’ve had back home, and sweeter than anything I’ve tasted.”

_ “A feat considering your sweet tooth.” _

Lyon rolled his eyes. “You’re one to talk. Who do you think led me over here?”

A mild pinch of a nerve was his answer. “Now you’re upset?”

_ “No. You’re just annoying.” _

“Score one for me then.” He finished his sweet. “I should probably save some of these… whatever they’re called for Zephyr. I’m sure she would appreciate.”

“Those things are what’s called doughnuts.”

The change in Formortiis’ mood was so quick it gave Lyon whiplash, stumbling a little as he faced Joshua, crown prince of Jehanna… and one of Ephraim’s allies. Most importantly one of the allies that aided in the Demon King’s takedown. It was no wonder why Lyon’s head began to ache a lot more fiercely than before. 

Joshua picked a doughnut up and absently bit into it as he spoke, “The Summoner told me, said she wanted them made for the event. Gave the cooks the recipe, and let ‘em have at it. Her world has some really fun dishes, I have to say.” He popped the last bit into his mouth, licking his fingers of the icing one by one. “What brings you here, Prince Lyon? Didn’t think you were one for parties.”

“I was looking for the Summoner as well,” Lyon explained, fidgeting the slightest bit. The last time he had seen Joshua was… not on good terms, since it involved fighting him and the others… “Where did you see her?”

“Ah, she went off elsewhere, saying she had to go prepare for “showtime”. She was in the main foyer of the castle when that happened.” His face grew curiously… cold. “You worked out your demons? Or are you still inviting them in?”

Lyon blinked, feeling on edge. Could he sense the fact that Lyon wasn’t all that he seemed? “How do you mean?”

Joshua sighed. “Look, I know Ephraim holds you on a high pedestal as a friend, and what happened back there with you… was terrible, for lack of a better word. But that doesn’t mean I can forgive you for everything else you’ve done, possessed or otherwise.”

Lyon was taken aback, although he should have figured this was bound to happen. He was bound to not be forgiven by many people, especially after what he did to Jehanna. He still bore the fault of his sins and he was sure everyone else that had been affected by his actions blamed him in some way or another… but to call him out like this…

“Prince Joshua, I…” Lyon began, searching for the right words.

“Save it,” Joshua told him. “Apologizing is only a fool’s errand.”

“Then is there a way I can atone? I-” he paused for a moment as his head continued to ache, “I want to repent, to redeem myself for all the suffering and misery I’ve created.”

“Hm…” Joshua fished out a gold coin from his pocket, slipping it between his thumb and forefinger. “Well, alright. How about a coin toss? Heads and I’ll find it in myself to forgive you. Tails… well, do I even need to explain? I choose tails.”

With that, he flipped it, the coin spinning rapidly as it flew up, then fell down to earth….

...where it landed face up. A scarlet eye narrowed a little as he picked up the coin from its resting place. “Heads… huh. Guess it’s your lucky day. See to it that you don’t waste this chance. I’ll be keeping an eye you then.”

Joshua left without so much as a wave, and Lyon sighed, practically able to feel the antlers on his head wilt. In a matter of minutes his good mood was gone. “Gods… I feel like the scum of the earth,” he whispered. “Joshua… L’arachel… everyone…”

_ “There is a time and place to grieve for such things, child, and this is not either of those. You have a mission to set forth on,”  _ Formortiis reminded him.  _ “Speaking of…” _

He wouldn’t have time to finish that line, because a loud horn sounded that gathered all the Heroes’ attention to the large stage that was set up. Atop was Anna, Sharena, and Alfonse in their Christmas wear, and all looked rather excited to be there (Alfonse not bearing a frown on his face was a first). 

“Ladies and gentleman from every world around, I’m Commander Anna welcoming you to our annual Winter Festival!” Anna shouted exuberantly to much applause. “I hope you guys are having a great time, as things are about to get heated!”

“As all you might know, our Winter Festival Tournament will be held shortly in the courtyard,” Alfonse stated next. “Sharena and I will be hosting be hosting both doubles and singles matches. This year’s prize, besides year long bragging rights - a few chuckles were among the audience - will be-”

Sharena nudged him in the ribs with an elbow, stopping him short of spoiling anything. “Alfonse! We can’t tell them what the prize is! They have to fight for it! That’s why it’s a secret!”

“R-right, sorry,” Alfonse said, rubbing his smarting side. “Anyway, before we begin the tournament, our very own Summoner wants to kick things into gear with a very special performance!”

The audience then was rife with discussion. The Summoner, performing? There really was more than meets the eye with her. 

_ “Performing, hm? How intriguing. This must be what Valter was referring to earlier,”  _ mused the Demon King.  _ “Zephyr truly is a marvel among us.” _

“Indeed,” Lyon said. He hadn’t known much about her hobbies or what she did for entertainment, although she did listen to music on that… thing that’s called a phone. He had seen Arvis with it the most, playing the same three songs over and over on repeat.

“It’s an interesting one, if I must say,” Anna agreed once the hubbub went down. “A lot of cool dancing and music inspired from something in her world called ‘Anime’-” Sharena elbowed her this time - “-er, sorry! Didn’t mean to spoil, hehe~! But it’s honestly really fun, seeing them in action, especially the Summoner!”

“Without further ado, I bring to you the Dancing Dragons!” Alfonse announced.   


He and the others moved out of the way as the curtains lifted to reveal the group of dragons (minus one) Tiki, Nowi, Fae, and Myrrh, all dressed up in perhaps the most adorable Christmas outfits. In the center was the very Summoner herself, this time unhidden beneath her hood and cloak. She bore herself in a holiday themed long sleeved shirt and skirt with thick black tights and a Santa hat on her head. This would probably be a first for some to see her outside her normal attire, others already knowing what she looked like underneath the whole Summoner’s cloak. 

For Lyon, it was of the former. He never saw her outside the outfit, and… he couldn’t keep his gaze off of her. Something in his chest ached when he saw her. What was it? He hadn’t felt such an ache in his heart for so long… the last time he felt it… was with Eirika.

He shook his head. Zephyr  _ wasn’t  _ Eirika. She could never be Eirika. And yet...

He wouldn’t have time to dwell, because Zephyr’s voice cut through his thoughts. “Are you guys ready to rock?!” she shouted.

To her surprise, quiet was her response. So Zephyr tried again, “I said, are you guys ready to rock?”

A tiny voice greeted her in the far back, which sounded like Tobin (he was promptly quieted by Gray), but otherwise silence. It seemed the audience really didn’t know what the phrase meant, or they were just so… bewildered at seeing their Summoner do something like this. Nowi whispered to Zephyr, “I don’t think they get it, Zephyr…”

“Maybe you aren’t loud enough?” suggested a worried Fae in turn. 

“Well, if that’s the case, we can transform and make them hear us,” Tiki added, but Zephyr shook her head.

“No need. If they don’t understand us, we’ll show ‘em what we mean. Myrrh?”

“Huh?” The yellow-winged Manakete looked at the Summoner, a little nervous skip in her stance, but she straightened up and held her head high. This was a time for fun, not fear! “Oh, r-right. Everyone, formation!” Myrrh ordered.

Zephyr turned to her left as she and the others took to their positions. “Arvis! Hit it!”

“Certainly, Summoner.” And in the nearby corner of the stage, hidden a little by the curtain, Arvis (in the fanciest Christmas attire known to man) opened a grey tome. Lyon, from his position, recognized that tome as a sound tome, one that records well… sounds and voices

What he didn’t expect was the music to be playing forth from it as the group started dancing and singing.* It was definitely something he had never heard of before, so cheery and upbeat it was, and the instrumental was incredibly… well, different, for lack of a better word. The beat was catchy, however, and soon he found himself tapping his feet to it. There was something about that made him… happy.  He couldn’t express it properly, but… it was like Azura singing her songs. It made him feel a certain way that other music didn’t.

Some other members of the audience began to dance along too as the others simply watched, but it really wasn’t until the dragons shifted into their true forms where things became really special. They took to the air above the audience’s heads, swooping and flying and generally dancing in their own draconic way. It looked chaotic because of the size of the creatures, but it was surprisingly well coordinated, if not well choreographed. Zephyr had clung on to Tiki’s back, and was still singing all the while with the other girls:

“With you on my back, I fly through the sky!

But if our hearts are ever separated, just remember to smile.

I’ll always keep singing this Rhapsody of Blue Sky

For I’ll always protect you in this world!”

Rhapsody of Blue Sky… what a lovely name, Lyon thought as more and more of the crowd began to dance along to the song. It was infectious, the hyper-enthusiasm and general happy-go-lucky feel of it that many didn’t usually hear in their worlds. To them, it was foreign… but a welcome addition.

But then the ground beneath him disappeared as he suddenly found himself picked up by Fae of all people. He yelled in surprise as he was plopped on stage… right in front of all the crowd. A few others like Gray, Soleil, and Niles got put on stage as well as the dragons returned to their original positions.

“Everyone, let’s clap our hands and dance to the beat!” Zephyr called out excitedly, clapping to the rhythm. The Askran prince and princess, Anna, and even  _ Arvis  _ got on too to strengthen the support. And while Lyon was doing his best to keep up -- Soleil was having the time of her life dancing with the Summoner, while the other two eventually found their place elsewhere on stage with the dragons -- he found it the hardest to fit in. He wasn’t really… a dancer.

_ “Child, relax. No hesitation,”  _  was Formortiis’ voice.  _ “Follow the Summoner’s lead, and go from there.” _

Easier said than done, the prince pondered as he tried to be as less awkward as possible. What was up with the Demon King today? He seemed… rather tame. 

He’d have to ask later though. Now, he was entirely focused on trying to have fun, or as much of it as he could. But just as he was getting into the feel of things, the song was winding down, and the music had ended with a final pose from Zephyr. There was thunderous applause from the crowd as she and the others bowed.

_ “Now’s your chance, child,”  _ Formortiis urged as Sharena and her brother began to thank those involved for their support. The Dragon Dancers and the extras were making their leave off stage, as was Zephyr.  _ “Let’s go.” _

“Right.” Lyon left as stealthily as he could down the steps, as much as his shaking legs and quaking heart would allow. He had never done anything like that before, and he was surprised his crippling anxiousness hadn’t gotten the better of him in that moment. Tonight was an event of many firsts…

* * *

 

“That was fantastic, you guys!” Zephyr cheered backstage, hugging all the girls involved. They had disappeared backstage, celebrating with the mirth of the holiday spirit at their dashing performance. “You all did great! I’m so proud!”

“It’s all thanks you, Zephyr!” Nowi told her with the biggest smile. “If it weren’t for you, it wouldn’t have nearly been as great!”

“Yeah, yeah, it was awesome! It was all like “Rawr!” and “Wheeee!” and… and…!” Fae flitted her arms about like her dragon self, running about with all the innocence a young dragon would have.

“Y-yes… this has been a rather good festival overall,” Myrrh said, the tiniest smile on her face. “It felt so fun once people got into it…”

“Same! It’s been so great, Zephyr! I haven’t had this much in so many, many, years!” Tiki stated jubilantly. “We have to do this every year!”

Zephyr’s smile grew bigger at that. Considering the massive courage and undertaking that this took for  _ her _ , she was surprised that this performance turned out as well as it did. Thank god she had Lewyn and Silvia for advice and help with these things. She could have never have done this on her own. “I’m sure we can a find a way to do that.”

“Yay!” Fae cheered. “That’s great! Now, let’s go eat! All that singing and dancing made me hungry!”

“Last one to the food is a rotten egg!”

“No way! I’ll get there first!”

“That food is mine!”

“Girls, be careful!” Zephyr called for the rushing dragons, but sighed as they took off without her. “Man, kids these days. If I can actually call them kids, since they’re millenia old…”

“Zephyr.”

Zephyr turned to the new voice now, and saw Lyon of all people gingerly coming down the stairs. Her eyes brightened exponentially as her breath caught in her throat. “Lyon? Lyon, is that really-?” she asked cautiously. The last time she had seen him in a similar situation she was in a bloody nightmare with the Demon King. She had to make sure…

“It’s me,” Lyon reassured her. “I’m here. And not in a dream.”

Zephyr blinked. So he knew what the Demon King had done to her? 

“I’m… I’m sorry for not seeing in so long,” Lyon began unsteadily, eyes downcast. “I… I honestly couldn’t bring myself to face you after that incident. I felt like dirt for doing what I did… and for not being able to stop the Demon King from doing what he did to you, beneficial or not. I didn’t have the courage to stand up to that.. And so I isolated myself from everyone… so I wouldn’t be a liability anymore.”

“Liability? Lyon, you’re the furthest thing from that!” Zephyr said with a furious shake of her head. “You’re one of the best people I know. When you disappeared for that week, I thought  _ I  _ was at fault! I should have stopped that match when I could, I wanted to protect you before Julius could do anymore damage!”

“You wanted… to protect me?” Lyon echoed, his violet-eyed gaze wide. He hadn’t even thought of the possibility of the Summoner being worried, just of his fear of the polar opposite and her thinking him a monster. “But… but why?”

“Why? Well, I already said why. You’re one of the best people I know, and I loved the fact you stood up for me back in that arena. It was brave, and… I admire that type of courageousness in people, especially in you. Seeing you come out of your shell… is something I’m proud of, and you should be too. The fact you had the guts to take on  _ Ares  _  says about how much you have grown since you’ve been here, Lyon.”

Lyon’s pale face was growing quite warm in the chill of the night air. He hadn’t even expected half of the compliments she had given him so casually. “Zephyr… your praise… I-”

_ Fwap! _

“Oof!” Lyon rubbed the top of his smarting head as Zephyr hit him with a prop paper fan. “What was that for?”

“Because I know what you were going to say. That you don’t deserve this praise of mine.” Zephyr took a deep breath, using that moment to determine her next words. “Listen, Lyon. Everyone deserves praise, you included, and you aren’t allowed to refuse mine. You can’t let your mistakes dictate your life. It’s gonna suck for you and everyone you care for. I know it’s easier said than done but… every step going forward is better than two steps backward.”

She smiled sincerely as she hugged him. “And, from what you’ve told me, you’re already making the first step by talking to me about all this. I wanted to talk too, but with all the battles and stuff I never had time, and I worried so much… so I’m glad you’re here today…”

If Lyon was red before, he was now, brighter than the attire he wore. He didn’t know where his emotions were going, but they were definitely making his already thumping heart nearly crack a rib or two with how hard it was rattling about his chest. Her words resonated with him like those of Reinhardt and Arvis. They had both made their points, but it was ultimately hers that was the cherry on top.

“Oh, Zephyr…” He hesitantly wrapped his arms around her waist….

...only to feel the rumbling call of the Summoner’s angry belly waiting to be filled. She chuckled, looking at him with a dog’s adventurous spirit. “Sorry about that. Wanna grab a bite? We can still talk on the way.”

“I… I wouldn’t mind.” Lyon’s mostly forlorn face gave way to the most minute (but endearing) lift of the lips. “I’d like that actually.”

“Great! Now, let’s go! Hopefully the girls haven’t taken everything…” Zephyr made a head start, but Lyon stopped once more.

“Wait. Just…” His smile spread a bit larger on his face, violet eyes alight. “...thank you. For everything.”

Zephyr gave him a thumbs-up and a supportive grin. “You’re always welcome.”

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not great with dance/singing scenes with huge crowds and such, and I wasn't sure how to go about it. I had to cheat a little so I didn't have to deal with such details. If anyone has any advice on how to work with those scenes, please don't hesitate to say.
> 
> And the song they were performing to was "Aozora no Rhapsody" from Kobayashi-San Chi no Dragon Maid. If you haven't seen it, watch it. It was almost going to be the Lucky Star opening, but I decided against it last minute.


	8. Unexpected Outcomes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some outcomes are made for both Summoner and Lyon... in some rather unexpected ways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I had this idea in my head for a while now for a hot spring chapter. This is a much shorter chapter than the last few, since I wanted this to be a bit of a nice filler (if you call anything what the Demon King does as... nice) before another storm comes next chapter.
> 
> Speaking of Demon King, here's a warning for this chapter due to... certain dubious factors that he does as a character that some readers might find uncomfortable to read. I wasn't sure how to tag such claims, since I thought that might be... a little too overboard? But I wanted to make some sort of disclaimer of said actions. Let me know in the comments.

 

* * *

 

Chapter 8

Unexpected Outcomes

 

It had been two weeks since the Winter Festival. Much merriment had been had over the holidays, and as things wound down, the Heroes settled back into their normal routines. The tournament had ended with the victors being Zephiel and Michaelis winning doubles (although to be fair, Marth and Roy didn’t stand much of a chance), and the singles tournament between Zelgius and Garon had been so intense the stadium threatened to crack. Alas, Garon was forced to yield against the power of the Alondite, and thus Zelgius took the prize…

...of a lifetime supply of his favorite food. Naturally, this went to the doubles’ victors as well, but neither king were really keen on winning something so frivolous. The Alondite wielder found the win perplexing, but he accepted it regardless. A win's a win after all, no denying that.

(He would never admit openly what his favorite food was, but Zephyr did have an inkling of what it might have been.)

As for Lyon, well, his shoulders had been weighed less by his emotional baggage after his conversation with the Summoner. He felt over the moon that she wasn’t blaming him, and that she cared even after everything that happened. It had to be illegal to be so kind. His heart was as light as a slim sword, as if nothing could hurt him anymore.

Now, he was being weighed down by another thing: training, specifically the hidden techniques of Naglfar. Considering the book was basically a physical extension of Formortiis’ powers to be wielded easily by the dark mage, it was a wonder why Lyon hadn’t discovered them sooner.

Then again, at the time he had came upon this book, Ephraim and Eirika was arriving to stop him, and he had no time to learn everything.

_ “Again, child! Focus the magic to where you want your wings to go!”  _ the Demon King ordered, noticing host beginning to slack off.  _ “And  _ push!”

Lyon panted as he struggled to keep himself aloft, wings beating with the strength of a wyvern as he delivered magic to the designated areas and did as instructed, pushing off into a different direction in the air. The wings were way too cumbersome for him to utilize properly, and he was floundering in the air with his maneuvers. “Hah… hah… why are my wings… so big?”

_ “Humans need bigger wings to support their weight,”  _ explained Formortiis,  _ “since they have more density and muscle than a hawk or dragon, who have special adaptations like hollow bones and air sacs. Even in the case of magic, it is imperative to configure the wings to your body’s size and shape to prevent substantial  injury.” _

“That’s… the… thing!” Lyon yelped as he crashed into a wall, free falling to the ground. If it weren’t for Formortiis softening his descent, he’d have had a bad time. “Urgh… my wings are  _ too  _ big, even for my size. I feel like I’m lifting two lead weights up and down on my back…”

_ “Being mortal, and human at that, your body has yet to adapt to such things foreign to your species. It is impressive you managed to even get off the ground, much less move. We shall practice again later when your magic is replenished. For now, rest. You’ve earned that much, child.” _

“Gods…” Lyon huffed, his wings disappearing into nothing as he recalled his magic. The first hour had been dedicated to summoning them, the next manipulating them to move around. Flying came next, and that lasted for far too long to be comfortable. His back ached something chronic, and he wasn’t sure if he was going to be standing straight for a while.

...and did Formortiis compliment him _ again?  _ What really was up with him…?

The training room door opened to Zephyr. She was alone this time, listening to music, but turned it off when she saw Lyon on the ground. “Lyon!” she said, rushing over. “What happened man? You hurt yourself?”

“Just training a little too hard,” he told her, taking her hand in his as he shakily stood. “The Demon King’s been teaching me some of the newer techniques with Naglfar. It was just recently that I discovered… I could fly.”

“Wait, fly? As in…” Zephyr flapped her arms up and down, simulating wings.

“Yes.”

“Holy crap, Lyon, that’s cool!” the Summoner squealed, jumping with such enthusiasm it might as well have been her that could fly. “You gotta show me how you can do that, I’m uber jealous~! Plus, that makes you even more mobile on the battlefield!”

_ “The Summoner picks up what I’m putting down it seems,”  _ the Demon King chortled. 

Lyon ignored him, instead choosing to respond to Zephyr by saying weakly, “I would, and I thank you for your compliments… but I cannot now. My magic and my body are spent. Perhaps you can watch me later…?”

“Sure thing!” Zephyr said brightly. “I actually came in here… to ask if you wanted to come and… and…”

She became demure all of a sudden, looking away from Lyon. “Well… did you… did you wanna come to the hot springs with me? I’ve always wanted to go. And you can relax your body with the heat. Win-win.” 

Lyon hesitated in his response, shuffling his feet. Should he go? Curse his shyness, it was just Zephyr, after all… and he felt like he owed her for all she did for him. Besides, it wasn’t often he got to relax like this. 

“Sure. I wouldn’t mind,” he responded after a few moments.

“Sweet!” Zephyr said excitedly, practically jumping for joy. “C’mon!”

She skipped out of the room, Lyon following closely behind her. Formortiis was darkly chortling all the while.  _ “She’s a nice catch, Lyon,”  _ he whispered.  _ “Are you sure you aren’t interested in pursuing her? I can see many wonderful things beneath that cloak that I’m sure you’d find tempting to claim as yours~.” _

Lyon’s face was glowing virulently. “ _ Demon King! _ ” he hissed. 

“Huh?” Zephyr turned around, lifting an earphone that was quietly playing the “X vs. Zero” battle theme. “You say something?”

Lyon was glad he had swallowed his blush down as hard as he could. “N-nothing, Zephyr. You’re fine.”

The Summoner blinked, but shrugged, slipping on her earphone again. The Demon King continued to relish in his host’s embarrassment.  _ “So naive, so naive. Don’t think I ignore those dreams of yours. They’re very intriguing… and very unlike you, child.” _

“Enough.” Lyon sighed, pinching his nose. “Gods, you’ll be the death of me…”

A sardonic chuckle.  _ “I already have.” _

 

* * *

 

If the prospect of going to the (public) springs with the Summoner wasn’t awkward enough, seeing her in swimwear made it ten times worse. Lyon himself was in his own pair of swim trunks, while the Summoner on the other hand was in a two piece magenta outfit, the bright colors bringing out her dark skin. 

Now that she was out in the open in more revealing attire, he could see she was of a thicker, but still slim build, something not easily seen due to her cloak hiding everything. She wasn’t a chubby thick, but a more sinewy thickness, more prominently around her thighs. Business in the back, but not much to brag about in the front really.

Wait, why were his thoughts like this? He shouldn’t even be thinking of the Summoner that way! Unless...

_ “Oops. My own thoughts must have slipped out.” _

“Gods, Demon King, I have no time for your nonsense…” he mumbled, shaking his head. “Have you no shame?”

_ “I’m a demon. The concept of shame is foreign to my kind.” _

“Something wrong?” Zephyr asked, peering up at him from the corner of her eyes as she proceeded to wrap a silk scarf around her head.

“Just the Demon King being his usual self,” he replied to her, dipping his foot into the steaming pool of water before stepping in fully. All at once the pain from earlier melted away as he submerged neck deep in the spring. “Persistently sinful.”

“Well, tell him to kiss your ass and buzz off,” Zephyr said, much to Lyon’s shock as she stepped in after him. Lyon knew she was upfront about many things (in the two war meetings he had attended this was especially prominent, incredibly vocal as she was), but he hadn’t expected her to be attacking the Demon King verbally. “I ain’t having anybody, demon or otherwise, bully you but me.”

She winked. “I’d bully you with kindness though.”

Lyon laughed, a sound that almost shook him because of how loud it was (it was relatively quiet, but it was the loudest his laugh has ever been in a long time). “He can hear you, you know.”

“Can he, now? Well, he should know how I feel about him interrupting a peaceful time in the springs,” Zephyr said cheekily. “He can kiss my ass too.”

_ “With pleasure,”  _ was the brief, also cheeky, voice of Formortiis coming through, to which Zephyr yelped, face heating up. Did this demon have standards? “Perverted demon!”

_ “Again, I’m a demon. What you see as perversion we demons see as a natural facet of our lives.” _

Lyon switched over again, face flushed with the most embarrassed expression. “Gods… such barbarism is unattractive,” he said. “I’m sorry you had to hear that.”

“Hey, it ain’t your fault. Blame that stinking dog you call a demon.”

_ “How callous,”  _ the Demon King said, mock hurt in his voice.  _ “You allow her to call me a dog, child?” _

“I certainly would allow her to call you a dog.” Lyon hissed as a pinch of pain hit a nerve. “Are you mad?”

_ “ _ That  _ time I was salty.” _

Zephyr was laughing all the while, almost borderline snorting at their antics. Thank god they were the only two here right now, it would’ve been incredibly embarrassing for anyone else to hear. “You know, if it weren’t for the fact that Formortiis was such a jerk, I’d actually say he’s pretty chill.”

_ “Rude.” _

“You’re the rude one,” Lyon said with a roll of his eyes. “Honestly, Zephyr, I do apologize. I don’t know why he’s the way he is-”

“Tag, you’re it.” 

Zephyr had disappeared and reappeared behind him, tapping him on the shoulder. He twisted around to try and catch her, but she disappeared below the warm water, popping up and tapping him again. “You’re too slow, slowpoke~!” she taunted playfully, disappearing again. 

Lyon blinked, but he couldn’t help let a smirk cross his face. “We’ll see about that.”

Two could play at this game.

 

* * *

 

Zephyr zipped away as fast as her legs could power through the heated water, into a cove that provided shelter and cooler waters for those who couldn’t handle the heat. She popped her head up, spying outside to see if Lyon was in pursuit. The ripples surging towards her was a dead giveaway that she wouldn’t be alone long. 

It should be noted that while Zephyr could certainly move along water fairly well, she wasn’t a fast swimmer. She relied on her smaller size to move about. This came in handy when a wisp of purple darted past and tried to tag her, only for her to dodge the oncoming hand with ease, giving him a push in the other direction. Lyon floundered about trying to right himself, the Summoner watching with a wicked grin as she swam to the bank.

“Hah… hah… whew… man, you really are slow,” she breathed with a laugh, leaning her back against the rock. “Try harder-whoa!”

She almost didn’t see Lyon’s approach as he rushed forward, his fingers just missing her side. “Close, but no cigar!” she called, diving again to escape another charge. Man, was this guy persistent! He had to get tired soon--

_ “Pay attention, Summoner.” _

Zephyr didn’t get a chance to even double back before Lyon--again, taken over by the Demon King, pinned her to the bank by her shoulders. She struggled to wiggle free, poking her head above water so she could at least breathe. When she looked back at her captor…

“Ggh! Formortiis! Let me go!” she barked, struggling harder against the stronger entity. The cave had gotten remarkably darker, and the moving shadows along the walls was a telltale sign of his presence in full. When had he managed to take over? Did Lyon just not expect it?

_ “And why would I do that?”  _  His hold on her tightened, a low rumbling growl echoing in his chest, the most sinister grin revealing sharpened fangs. His eyes glowed a brilliant vermillion now, with the slightest hint of purple in the mix as his gaze bored into her own defiant one, like a predator staring at a potential meal.  _ “You’ve continuously insulted me, and called me out on my actions, including judging me on my social customs. And you want  _ me  _ to let go?” _

“Yes! God, you act like a kid, y’know that?” Zephyr huffed exasperatedly, glare intensifying. “I say one thing about you and instantly you’re triggered. How does Lyon even deal with you...”

_ “Have you wondered what Lyon has thought about you, Summoner?” _

Zephyr blinked, the question catching her unawares. Where had that come from? “How do you mean?”

_ “Oh, a lot of things. A dream or two here… some wandering thoughts there…”  _ The Demon King licked at the same spot he had placed his ward on Zephyr’s neck, the glow of his eyes smoldering to a cooler maroon color.  _ “But he sees you in a different light than what you might expect.” _

Zephyr swallowed, his tongue on her warm skin making her shiver. This guy… one minute he was a troll, the next… well, he wasn’t called the Demon King for nothing, he was scary, and not just in violent ways either. “Are you sure that’s not how  _ you’re seeing me?”  _

_ “I assure you, those are his thoughts, and his alone…”  _ the Demon King responded honestly. He moved his mouth to another section of her neck, nearest her collarbone, letting his teeth tenderly puncture brown skin, little rivulets of red staining his lips. The harsh shake of her body made his grin larger.  _  “...Although… I’m not partial to what you are either. Only a select few mortals have garnered my attention in the past besides my host… Ephraim… Eirika… and now you. You’re an amusing woman, I hope you know. If this were Eirika, I’m sure she’d be crying for help… but you are different. Defiant, even in the face of adversary…” _

_ ‘This sounds like the beginnings of a level 40 confession!’  _ Zephyr thought incredulously, yelping at the incessence of his teeth chewing into her. The more she struggled, the tighter his grip, and she had to stop when his claws started digging into her sides. “What’s your point?”

_ “You’re special, Summoner,”  _ Formortiis admitted.  _ “You’ve done a great service to me and Lyon. I have grown much stronger even without the Sacred Stones, and Lyon has benefitted as well. His confidence stems from how he believes in you.” _

He pinched her skin (again, making her cry out in pain), sending a quick surge of magic through her that sent made every nerve tingle as if she had been struck by a tiny spark of lightning.  _ “But do not forget this, mortal: I am king, a demon king. You will never have sovereign over me.” _

He leaned in, but a splash nearby stopped him. Others had arrived.  _ “How annoying. I wanted to get to the best part. Hmph.” _

He let Zephyr go, the glow of his eyes fading along with the dancing shadows.  _ “I’ll be seeing you. I hope you had fun as much as I.” _

“Piss off, you pervert!” Zephyr spat, glaring spitefully at the demon. “You don’t scare me, king or not!”

_ “Fuefue… as you say, mortal. Farewell.” _

With that, he teleported through a portal, leaving behind a flustered and confused Summoner behind. What had that been about? Was Formortiis pulling her leg the entire time… or was he being genuine? With him, she couldn’t tell…

But that left her wondering...

“Lyon… is this true…?”

 

\---

 

“Why did you do that, Demon King?!”

_ “Why not? It’s only been months since we’ve been living here,”  _ Formortiis argued. _ “It’s been past due since you fessed up… I just did you a favor.” _

“But that’s not what I-” Lyon groaned mid-sentence, a palm rubbing his then distraught face. He was back in the empty training room, having literally just teleported there straight from the spring, with his ruffled and agitated wings acting like a shield against the sudden chill that came from separating himself from the hot water. “I… I wanted to tell her, but only when I was certain of what I was feeling, not when  _ you  _ were feeling it! I still haven’t come to a reasonable conclusion. Now she’s going to avoid me because you creeped her out!”

_ “Oh, hush, child. It was only to test her nerve is all,”  _ Formortiis reassured him casually.  _  “Her mettle is a lot sturdier than some of the mortals here. She’ll be fine.” _

“Fine?! Demon King, humans perceive your customs a lot more differently than the rest of your kind. Actions like those are not ones we typically accept unless it’s consensual, and even  _ that’s  _ dubious at best!”

_ “Wait, mortals  _ don’t  _ bite each other to lay claim to their possessions?” _

“No, they don’t--wait, what?” Lyon waited a full minute to digest the Demon King’s prior sentence. “Zephyr isn’t a toy nor an object. She’s a person with her own will, her own independent will. You can’t take that away from her.”

_ “Oh, really?”  _ Lyon dropped to the ground as cold, like sharp hoarfrost, took hold of his body, locking his muscles.  _ “And what are you going to do about it? How daft are you to tell me what I can and can’t do, child?” _

“Pretty daft, if that’s the case,” Lyon bit out. Despite the freezing chill keeping him place, he forced his magic to the affected areas, warming his stiffened joints as he hobbled to his feet. “But I don’t care. I already made myself a promise: I would not allow who I am to stop me from being what I want to do… and that is to protect her.”

The demon laughed.  _ “Oh, child, your naivety knows no bounds.” _

“Hey, who’s here?”

Lyon whipped his around upon hearing the new voice continue, “I was here for training, but if anyone’s up for a spar, then I’m game-”

The voice stopped, and Lyon turned to fully face the man behind it, jaw dropped. The demon inside him was absolutely  _ livid. _

_ “Of all the people that had to show up in this damned world… it had to be this whelp.” _

Ephraim had come to the Order of Heroes.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now, the plot thickens. :P


	9. Reunion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another angsty one, this chapter is. I didn't wanna do it, but the opportunity was there, and I had to take it. Next chapter will rectify that. I want this story to be equal parts angst and equal parts of the good stuff - finding a balance is hard with a character like Lyon.
> 
> Speaking of characters, I wasn't sure how to approach Ephraim's character, since I know his schtick is the whole "I love fighting" trope, but he cares for Lyon also, so I hope I did his character justice here. Give me feedback as to how I did so I can adjust accordingly. 
> 
> And woot, we've reached 1k hits! Thank you guys for all your love and support for this story!

* * *

 

Chapter 9:

Reunion

“Ephraim…?”

The pain that word, that  _ name _ , caused him to feel was a thousand-fold as he looked at his best friend… and his killer. Fresh memories of that day came to him in a flood… the pain as Ephraim’s lance Siegmund pierced his heart, the grievous look on the Renais prince’s face as he finished off what was once a good ally…

“Lyon?” Ephraim replied in turn, quietly, almost in disbelief. He took a few steps forward, cautiously, like he didn’t want to startle the mage. “Lyon, is that you…?”

He should have been happier. He should have been  _ so much happier  _ than this to see Ephraim after this long. He should have been flying over the moon and stars and back again. And yet, here he was, shell-shocked and shaken, unable to move from his position in the middle of the room. He could only stare ahead like a deer in the headlights, too distracted to even recall his then violently quivering wings back into his body.

Would… would Ephraim perceive him as a friend? Or would he perceive him as one possessed?

The Demon King on the other hand was furious. His annoyance with Joshua was nothing compared to the absolute  _ hatred  _ he felt towards Ephraim. This man… this very mortal was the sole reason his plans were foiled. Eirika too had a part… but her part in the whole ordeal, the whole final  _ battle _ , was so insignificant  compared to her brother’s. He was the one who dealt that crippling final blow to him. He wasn’t sure if Lyon could feel his anger, but if he could, he wasn’t showing his pain, because his power was bubbling over something fierce.

“I...I… yes. Yes, it’s me,” Lyon whispered, pulling his wings tighter against him. Curse that demon for bringing him  _ here  _ instead of his room where he could get changed! Seeing Ephraim in this situation was outright embarrassing! “It’s me, Ephraim…”

“...” 

Ephraim stopped walking, a few feet in front of him. His fingers subtly readjusted their grip on the handle. “Lyon… what’s with the wings? Is that…?”

“It’s a part of my magic, Ephraim,” Lyon answered quickly, hoping his friend didn’t get the wrong idea. “Something new I discovered from my tome. I’m learning to control it a lot better.” He recalled his wings in an unceremonious poof of light.

“I see.” A moment of pause as the lance user looked Lyon over, as if to test his suspicions that this was the real him. “Then answer me this: name one thing we used to do when we spent time in Serafew?”

What did they do? That was easy, how could he forget? There was so many examples he could choose from… studying… playing games… just having  _ fun... _ “Eirika used to bring little cakes for us… the ones filled with chocolate,” Lyon replied readily, his mind recalling the memory so well, as if he were there in that very moment. “You used to make a mess eating those… Eirika always scolded you for your eating habits.”

Ephraim couldn’t help but laugh, a sound that rang in Lyon’s ears brought a surge of memories with it: good times, when they would shop together, when they would spar together, when they would study together… just the three of them. “It really is you,” Ephraim said, dropping his lance and embracing his friend in the strongest of hugs. “I can’t believe it! Lyon… you’re really here!”

“Ephraim! Ephraim, too tight-!” Lyon wheezed, tapping him frantically on the shoulder, his lungs ready to burst and his still tender back now flaring up with pain. “Too tight!”

“O-oh, oops.” Ephraim let go, Lyon gasping for air. “I forget my own strength sometimes. Sorry I had to drill you like that. I had to make sure that you…” His voice grew solemn as he thought of his next words carefully. “...that it was actually you and not…”

“I know. I understand.” Such an out of place question with such an intimate answer attached was something the demon lord wouldn’t know without having to sift through Lyon’s memories, and Lyon had closed specific memories off from his reach. But the fact the Demon King’s influence on his friends affected them now hurt his heart even more. “I missed you, Ephraim. I missed you so much. When did you arrive? How long have you been here?”

“A week ago. Just got back from the battlefield yesterday. The Summoner told me to rest… and maybe come to the hot spring today if I were able. Said she had a surprise. But I overslept and couldn’t make it.” Ephraim looked at Lyon with a tilt of his head. “I believe she may have been referring to you.”

“I think so too,” Lyon said. That did explain Zephyr’s shy behavior then when she asked him. It should have been a tell that maybe she had something in store, but it never even occurred to him then. “Is… is Eirika here as well?”

“I can’t say yet,” Ephraim told him, much to his own chagrin as well as Lyon’s. “Having just got back, I haven’t had time to look. I sure hope she is though. I’d imagine she’d love to see your face again.”

_ ‘I’m sure she wouldn’t,’  _ Lyon thought to himself. It wasn’t as if he had tried to kill her, or everyone else… he’d be surprised if she didn’t hate him for it. He did so many terrible things… he didn’t deserve her kindness, as limitless as it was. He barely even deserved the Summoner’s kindness…

...well, that may have actually been a lie. Her kindness was infectious… and every thought about her made his heart blossom just that much more.

“Anyway, since we’re here, how about we get reacquainted over some good ol’ fashion sparring?” Ephraim suggested, placing the Siegmund down and picking up a practice lance. “What do you say?”

A sparring match? Oh, dear. He gulped silently, hesitantly shuffling his feet. Could he do it? It’s been so long since he even picked up an actual weapon… and he knew Ephraim didn’t hold back. He never did. Not even against his friend.

“If you aren’t confident, I understand,” the Renais prince said, picking up on Lyon’s hesitance. “It’s been a while since we had our duels, and I know your weapon skills aren’t as proficient as your magic-”

“N-no, it’s fine,” Lyon quickly responded. He picked up his own practice lance, light enough for him to wield without him losing his balance on his feet, different from the heavier lance that Ephraim now wielded. “I… I want this too. Maybe I’ve gotten stronger in your absence.”

“We’ll see about that.” He swung the lance in an attack stance. “Although…” Ephraim cocked an eyebrow. “You sure you want to be fighting… in your state of dress?”

Lyon blushed vibrantly, his stance not as firm but still determined.  _ Now  _ he decides to take notice? “How cruel…” Lyon said, teleporting away for the briefest moment and reappearing with some fresh clothes. “It’s not like you’re not guilty of doing the same thing. The time you tried wrestling me in the mud was a mistake on your end.”

“Oh, really?” Ephraim questioned teasingly, making his first move and swinging in a downward arc. Lyon, recognizing that technique from many, many sparring sessions ago, had managed to block it, the blades ringing as they collided. “Last I checked you were the one complaining about “wanting to do something outside of sparring”.”

Lyon pushed the lance away and rolled from a high sweep, springing back up for a side thrust, only to be easily blocked and pushed away. “And you thought  _ wrestling  _ was a good idea?” 

“Well, why not? Sure, it took forever to get the dirt from your hair, and we both got a scolding from our dads for roughhousing-”

“Understatement of the century.”

“Okay, okay, so it was a little more than that!”

“And you were grounded for two weeks-”

“Now you’re just rubbing salt in the wounds!”

“You’ll be feeling a lot more salt when I beat you, Ephraim.”

“Heh, fat chance, Lyon! Hyaah!”

As their spar went on (and their banter continued), with Lyon actually holding his own as feebly as he was, Formortiis began to grumble, power crackling with deadly intent. He could kill Ephraim now, be done with this wretched whelp and absorb his soul. He could deal with Ephraim’s other lackeys; they were nothing in comparison to the living folly that was the Renais prince. Time and time again he tried to have that barbarian killed, and each time Ephraim evaded death.

Now, if only he could just get Lyon to drop his guard for two seconds… it wasn’t too hard… 

Lyon stumbled head over heels backwards into a group of barrels upon losing a deadlock, causing the pile of weapons to topple on top of him. Ephraim rushed to his aid, sincerely hoping he hadn’t hurt him too much. He cursed himself for not giving Lyon a little leeway; he knew how easily it was to push the Gradian prince about, and he had to pull back his punches. “Lyon! Lyon, are you okay?” he called, pushing the avalanche of weapons out of the way. 

A muffled response was all he got, and Ephraim hurried in his search, being careful to move the sharp ends of the weapons away so they didn’t poke the mage. “Don’t worry, Lyon, I got you!”

A hand grabbed his wrist from underneath the pile, stopping Ephraim in his tracks. The grip on him was tight, tighter than what the prince expected of Lyon. “H-hey, Lyon, I said I got you,” he said, grunting on the pressure on his wrist - either Lyon really  _ had  _ gotten stronger since they had last met or he was incredibly afraid right now and he needed something to hang on to. “You can let up on my wrist, lemme just-”

_ “You’re mistaken, Ephraim. It is  _ I  _ that has you.” _

Ephraim’s head shot up, but before he could question him, he was thrown onto his back and pinned to the ground, his other hand bound by a purple ring of magic. Turquoise eyes peered up at the one above him, and they immediately narrowed. “No… no, it can’t be… I killed you…!”

_ “Yes, Ephraim. It is I.”  _ Formortiis peered down with a sickly sweet vehemence that vibrated in his eyes, streaks of vermillion flaring from the corners. The shadows that accompanied his presence had waltzed closer to them, tickling the edges of Ephraim’s frame.  _ “Nice to see you again after all this time. I was worried you would have forgotten about me.” _

“Demon King! Why you…! Give Lyon back!” Ephraim struggled to escape Formortiis’ hold, but the magic - and the hand - holding him was too strong. The Demon King laughed triumphantly, watching the lance user flop fruitlessly in his grasp. 

_ “Do you know how long I’ve dreamed of this moment?”  _ the Demon King growled, digging his nails into battle-hardened skin, satisfied at the pained hiss this brought from his prey.  _ “How long I’ve waited for my revenge? You’ve brought unto me such a humiliating defeat. I couldn’t bear to live that down. And now you’ve come before me like a hunk of meat dropped in front of a lion. What a gift from the gods~.” _

“You deserved such a defeat, damn demon!” Ephraim spat. His eyes darted to Siegmund, but the fire lance was out of his reach. “After everything you’ve done, death wasn’t good enough for you! You had to take Lyon away again too!”

_ “Take away? I was revived back in this body when Lyon was summoned. Unbelievable, I know.”  _  His eyes hardened, rouge meeting azure, claws digging into exposed wrists and making the lance user beneath bite his lip to keep from crying out.  _ “Now silence that rambling mouth of yours, you blathering barbarian. Each time I hear that sniveling, self-righteous droll spew out about my death being warranted is another mark I’ll etch into that bag of flesh and blood you call a body.” _

The Demon King inhaled deeply, the scent of Ephraim’s spirit burning at the edges of his tongue. That’s right, he realized. His spirit was that of the warrior: a luminous, all-consuming fire that refused to die out, even when it was sputtering like a smoldering candle, and turned all it touched to cinders. Now, it bubbled and frothed, a chained volcano’s ire ready to be unleashed with a fury only rivalled by Valflame. 

But underneath that scathing power rested a more tepid soul, one that Formortiis knew held his concern and love for those he cared about, particularly for Lyon and Eirika. His smile grew even larger at the taste of such weakness.  _ “Vulnerability ill suits a warrior like yourself. It makes you a bigger target for a predator like me to catch.” _

Ephraim looked disgusted now. “You sound like that filth Valter...” 

_ “You  _ wish _ I was Valter,”  _ Formortiis scoffed.  _ “He may be a predator, but his experience, compared to I, in the hunt is shoddy. And unlike him, I don’t like playing with my food.”  _ He leaned down, mouth opening to reveal his fangs, which extended outward with an audible  _ shhk _ .  _ “Now, be still. If you want to keep your neck intact, you’ll do as I say.” _

Ephraim’s eyes showed lightest pinprick of fear as Formortiis neared his throat, but it was quickly replaced with a burning determination. “Lyon! Lyon, come back! Don’t let him win-ah!”

A bite that brought about an incredible dose of pain silenced the Renais prince’s next words and replaced them with a startled hiss. A rivulet of red ran from the spot where his flesh tore.  _ “Don’t even bother trying that,”  _ the Demon King told him disapprovingly. _ “His spirit slumbers. He won’t hear you even if you tried.” _

“Then I’ll just wake him up!” Ephraim countered with grit teeth. “I won’t allow you to take him away from me again!”

_ “Hmph. Foolish rabble from a barbarian. I’ll silence you so such words don’t sully this realm and others again-” _

He stopped, fangs inches from penetrating deeper into skin and vein and claiming soul. Confusion laced his normally confident face, fangs quivering as they slid back into his mouth.  _ “What? What is this?” _

Ephraim blinked, equally puzzled (and relieved) at seeing Formortiis stop his actions. “What? Why the hesitance? Got cold feet?”

_ “Shut up, you-gah!” _

He released his hold on Ephraim as the Demon King felt his host’s skull ring with the force of a stampede.  _ “Child, stay out of this! This doesn’t concern you!” _

“Yes, it does!” Lyon’s voice managed to break through. His eyes were a clash of violet and vermillion as the Demon King - Lyon? -  staggered to his feet. “You leave Ephraim be, you dastardly fiend! You can take my soul and my body, but I won’t allow you to take anyone else’s, especially not my friend’s!”

_ “Grah… you fool! Know your place!” _

It shouldn’t have been possible. Lyon shouldn’t be able to escape while he was in control, much less wake his spirit! It couldn’t have been Ephraim; no amount of yelling could have woken him by force. And even if he could hear Ephraim’s pleas, Formortiis held Lyon down with powerful magical spells that rendered the prince inert. Essentially, Lyon was locked in place.

And yet, he had managed to break free of those chains.  _ What had he done?! _

Ephraim took this time to gather his bearings and grab the Siegmund from its resting place, but he didn’t brandish it against his friend… yet. He would if he had to, if only to stop the Demon King from chewing at his very being and robbing him of his spirit like he did in the past. This time looked different, however. Lyon was actually putting up the good fight against the demon. “Keep fighting, Lyon! I know you’re in there!”

“Ephraim… Ephraim, stay back!” Lyon warned, furiously shaking his head, fiercely combating the Demon King’s hold. “I...I might hurt you-gyaaah!”

_ “Child, enough! Get back in your slumber while I deal with the trash!” _

“N-no… I…  _ won’t!”  _

With that shout, a shockwave of magical energy expelled from Lyon’s body and Ephraim had to brace himself against the force, lest he be thrown away. Various objects and weapons were flung about, and the Renais prince had to watch out for those too, ducking whenever possible to avoid being impaled. When things had calmed, Ephraim took a look at his friend again, eyes uncertain, grip on Siegmund tighter. “Lyon…”

“Ha… ha… ha…”

Lyon turned his tired gaze back to Ephraim’s, violet eyes filled with a sorrow that the lance lord had only seen once in his life, back in Darkling Woods, back in the Demon King’s temple. “Ephraim…” Lyon began quietly, painfully. Just looking at Ephraim after all that happened… he couldn’t bear it much longer. “I’m sorry.”

Before the other prince could say another word, the red mage warped away without a trace.

\---

He hadn’t had a set direction when he warped off. All he wanted to do was one thing, and that was to leave. He had to put as much distance between Ephraim and himself as much as humanly possible.

What he hadn’t taken into account was him warping into the castle gardens. He crashed onto a bed of orchids with a pathetic yelp, an explosion of petals shooting upwards in his wake as he tumbled down the miniature hill and right into the lake below. Both his mind and body were deliriously burnt out, and he could have sworn he felt something bruise on the fall down, but he had recovered enough magic from earlier to create an air bubble around him. “Aah…”

What a mess that had been. In one day he had messed up the relationship of two people that he most cared for. He was sure that they wouldn’t see him in the same light anymore… or if they would even bother to be in the same presence as he, seeing as he did practically assault them both.

...no. Not he. Not himself. It was his other.

Speaking of…

_ “Foolish brat!”  _ the Demon King roared, righteous indignation practically swamping Lyon’s soul at that moment. It was the angriest the demon had ever been, and Lyon could feel it spreading further (even the fish around him seem to cower from him, as if they could sense the mad devil). He curled up on his place of the lakebed, nausea tingling in his gut.  _ “Why would you interfere?!” _

“He’s my friend, Demon King!” Lyon managed to yell out despite the pain. “And I… I won’t allow you to interfere with that friendship!”

_ “Do you think I care about your friendships with the other patches of felt, child?”  _ Formortiis spat.  _  “I’m only nestled here in this body because I no longer have access to my own… nor do I have the power to resurrect a new one. You almost knocked me out with that stunt back there, and I would applaud your strength had it not been for the fact I had my prey in my grasp.” _

“If it means stopping you from killing Ephraim, then I’m fine with whatever works,” Lyon retorted bitterly. “My stance is firm, and you know that, Demon King.”

He bit his tongue upon the next wave of nauseous pain that electrified his body. Metaphysical claws viciously raked across his psyche, and it was all Lyon could do to stop himself from screaming. It was as if a sword had etched fiery paths into his mind, and left them there to fester and grow like a scab. 

_ “And my stance is firm too child,”  _ Formortiis stated coldly, and somehow the prince of Grado found that tone to be a lot more frightening than when he was yelling at him.  _ “The next time you mess with my prey, I may just invest in a new host after I rip your soul apart.” _

Formortiis coughed, an earthen sound like tombstones crumbling.  _ “Ack… my powers are all over the place thanks to you… you’re lucky I can’t punish you anymore than I have. All that sassy back talk of yours… tch, you’ve been spending too much time listening with that Summoner. You would do well to beware of such defiance.” _

Formortiis fell silent, having went into a state of torpor to recover, leaving Lyon alone with his own thoughts curled up at the bottom of the lake. As the sun’s dying rays cast glimmers of gold across its surface, the prince’s body trembled as he sobbed harshly, not even caring if the demon could hear him at this point.

_ ‘Zephyr… Ephraim… I’m sorry…’  _

  
  



	10. Force of Will

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, well, this chapter turned out a lot different than I expected. I was writing, redrafted, and was like, "Let's have this be a fluffy chapter" and my mind was like "YEET!" and threw that idea out the window in favor of a potential fight scene. This is why you pre-plan before you let your mind wander, guys. -w-"
> 
> EDIT: Also, to all you Lyon fans out there, he placed 89th(?) in the CYL3 event! Go get em!

Chapter 10:

Force of Will

Unknown to many, Arvis was one of several morning people in the Order. He often took strolls through the castle gardens or simply took the time to enjoy some peace watching the dawn’s first rays rise before the flurry of activity caught him through the remainder of day. Being an influential figure both in and out of the war room, he’d hardly time for himself; if it weren’t for Zephyr being there and consistently badgering him on going out and just messing around, he’d go absolutely batty.

(Of course, he’d never admit that to her. As much as he trusted her, there were things he’d never tell her out loud. She’d never let him hear the end of how the Summoner managed to get “the coldest man alive to warm up having fun”.)

“Tch. How troublesome,” he said to himself with a roll of his eyes, stepping on the cobblestone path to begin his trek. “I can’t imagine how she acts back in her world if she’s being only a mild persistence here. Fjalar save me.”

As he took his walk through the gardens, lighting a small flame to guide his path through the still dim surroundings, he caught something from the peripheral of his eye. Turning on his heel, the flame’s light revealed something - no,  _ someone  _ \- next to the shore of the lake. 

“Odd…” he murmured questionably, the flame burning brighter ever so slightly. Upon closer inspection as he descended the hill, he soon identified the person as none other than Lyon.

“Gods…!” Arvis rushed over, checking to see if there were any wounds or injuries, all the while keeping a look out for any potential foes. How had he fallen out here? Had he been ambushed? His magic didn’t detect anything out of the ordinary… and he saw no signs of a struggle or potential enemies nearby…

Nevertheless, he couldn’t leave that up to chance. For all he knew, he could be in the crosshairs of an archer right now. It was time to abscond.

 

* * *

 

When Lyon awoke in the fledgeling hours of the morning, it wasn’t to the lake scenery that he had fallen into the evening prior. Rather, it was to a plush surface that his body sank into, much softer than a cot. Something that felt like a pillow propped his head and neck. His first thoughts turned to the medical ward, but that couldn’t have been the case. He had been there (on multiple occasions, all of which were never good) and he knew none of the cots there were that comfortable. So where in the name of the gods was he?

“You’re up.” 

Lyon grunted, unable to properly find his voice - his throat was raw and scratchy like he had just swallowed sand. His eyes blearily searched for the owner of the voice, and shone with surprise to see Arvis… again, by his side. This scenario felt awfully familiar, if it weren’t for the fact he had no headphones covering his neck this time around, instead an open book was there occupying the space on his lap. “A-Arvis..?” Lyon rasped.

“Don’t try to talk, at least not yet,” Arvis told him, reaching over to the nightstand and handing Lyon some water. “Drink this first.”

Lyon happily obliged, greedily gulping down the drink and washing the dryness out of his throat, some of the water dripping down his chin in his haste. He coughed harshly, and Arvis patted his back to ease his choking. “Easy, Lyon, easy. Take your time. I got more where that came from.”

Lyon panted quietly once he finished his coughing fit. “T-thank you, Arvis. Now… ah, where…?”

“You’re in my room,” Arvis replied, leaning back in his chair once he was sure Lyon was okay. He refilled Lyon’s now empty glass and set it down on the nightstand. “I found you by the lake this morning when I was walking through the gardens.”

“Wait,  _ by  _ the lake?” And not  _ in  _ it? He vividly remembered falling into it. Which begged the question: how was he so dry? And who pulled him out? Had the Demon King recovered and brought him to the surface and dried him, for fear his host would drown or freeze in his sleep? He doubted it. 

Was it possible he dragged himself out? He didn’t know. It could have been possible, but...

“Yes,” Arvis said with a nod. “I almost thought you had been attacked, but I saw that wasn’t the case. I had a healer take a look at you anyway. I didn’t want to risk anything and make assumptions.”

His forehead creased with worry. “What in the name of Fjalar were you doing over there?”

Lyon looked down, the memories of yesterday hitting him full force. His hands clenched the bedsheets. “I… the Demon King… he took control of my body and attacked Ephraim…” he whispered. “I managed to stave him off and I warped away… but I fell into the lake. I didn’t know I was down there for that long…”

“Gods, Lyon…” This was the second time the Demon King had nearly killed a man in the span of a few months. How many times would the beast strike before he actually accomplished a deed of killing someone? “Is Ephraim alright at least?”

“Yes… I think so… I took control before the Demon King could take Ephraim’s soul.” Lyon sighed heavily. “I should have been prepared for that. I know how much the demon hates Ephraim… and I should have been able to stop him before he could take desperate measures… but…”

“The fact you managed to save your friend even with the Demon King in control is a feat in and of itself,” Arvis said. “He isn’t one to let go of his grip of his host easily… I know that first hand with my son.”

“Ah…” Lyon trailed off, knowing the topic of his son was a touchy subject. He grabbed his glass of water again, looking into its semi-icy depths, his warped reflection staring back at him. “I suppose that you are correct in that regard. But I cannot shake the fact that Ephraim might look at me as a foe, not as a friend. Same with Zephyr.”

Arvis’ eyes widened a fraction of an inch. “The Demon King attacked Zephyr too?”

“Not necessarily. He… he just made her incredibly uncomfortable. ” Lyon closed his eyes, shivering at the scene he was forced to watch. “He thinks of her as an object to be controlled… and I don’t want her to think of me as having the same thoughts.”

The prince took another sip of water, sliding it on the nightstand when he finished. “I… I don’t know, Arvis. You know her better than I do. What if she doesn’t want to see me anymore? What if she hates me? What if Ephraim hates me?”

Arvis heaved a sigh of his own at this, running his fingers through his scarlet hair. “Lyon, I’m going to be blunt with you here: I don’t understand why you would think she hate you. No matter what you might think, Zephyr won’t think of  _ you _ any differently than she already has. She might fear - no, detest -  the Demon King a little more after that stunt… but you specifically? She…” 

Arvis paused, his eyes searching for something that wasn’t quite there. “She… cares for you. Deeply. She holds you close. She’s aware of your power struggle with the Demon King, she knows of what’s happened to you. And yet, she sees you as you are, the real you, not the one possessed by a mad devil.”

“But-”

A flickering ember silenced Lyon’s protests, and the mage cursed quietly as he quickly put it out. “I’m not finished, Lyon,” Arvis stated, flicking away the rest of the tiny flame from his thumb. “Zephyr, believe it or not, is kind of like you: she doesn’t like to admit it, but she’s not fond of making mistakes. No one likes making mistakes, but Zephyr in particular hates it. She… shuts down when she screws up, and thinks the entire Order will have her head if she messes up even the simplest task in or out of the battlefield. She’s gotten better with it, and she’s learning to roll with the punches instead of giving up.”

“But… she’s our Summoner…” Lyon argued, “and I’m… I’m just me.”

“And she’s just Zephyr.” The Duke of Velthomer’s gaze latched on to the Grado prince’s own, scorching in its intensity. “Listen: you and her aren’t any different from one another. You are you and Zephyr is Zephyr. Those experiences you go through don’t make you a failure if you attempt to learn from them.  _ They make you human _ .”

“They make me… human?” 

Lyon’s expression had became nothing short of shaken at his words. They had struck something within him, like a spiritual awakening. Deep in his gut, arising like a phoenix from the ashes… what was this discourse, this resonance…?

Humanity… there was a point in time where he thought himself more demon than human. Now...

“I can’t speak for Ephraim, as I’m not very familiar with him. But if he’s as close to you as you’re implying, he shouldn’t feel any ill will towards you either.” Arvis stood, marking his spot in the book and placing it on the chair. “Now, I got some business to attend to, so you can rest some more if need be-”

“Wait.”

Arvis looked over his shoulder at the prince, who had now sat up in the bed. “Forgive me for my impertinence… but let me sate my curiosity for  a moment with a question.”

“...go on.”

“How are you so close? With Zephyr, I mean. I almost always see you with her at some point, and she seems content with your company as well. Do you happen to be… are you together?”

“No,” Arvis answered curtly. “We just happen to share common interests. Nothing more.” He scoffed half-heartedly though. “I don’t know why she grew so fond of me, I’m not a nice person. If it wasn’t her attitude that pestered me it was that self-deprecation. Gods, that was annoying to deal with.” 

He mulled over his next words for a bit, tapping the back of his heel in a rhythmic pattern. “But despite all of that, she’s admittedly been a great help. She opened my eyes to new ideas and broadened my perspective. Even though she’s not a fighter like the rest of us… she’s a fighter in other ways. She doesn’t fight for herself, but rather fights for the people. And she fought for me when the crusaders practically shunned me…”

“The crusaders? You mean Sigurd, Quan, and Eldigan?” Lyon blinked. They were some of the most honorable and tolerant knights here. To think they would give him the cold shoulder…

“Yes. Rightfully, they shunned me for many reasons… we eventually fought to settle our scores… but that’s another story for another time.” 

Arvis opened the door, then stopped again. “Speaking of Zephyr, she won’t be back for a while. She has to do some shopping. She’ll be back in the evening. Oh, and one more thing.”

He dug into his pocket and tossed Zephyr’s phone and headphones to him. “Here. I’m technically not even supposed to pawn these off to anyone without explicit permission… but I’m sure she wouldn’t mind you using them,” Arvis said offhandedly. “You turn it on with the button on the side, and tap the screen once to get in to the playlist - I recommend “Rachmaninoff Piano Concerto no. 2”. It’s a delightful piece from a brilliant pianist.”

Arvis left, leaving Lyon to his devices. The prince looked at the phone, curious now. He had never listened to Zephyr’s music from her world. And if Arvis praised it, then it had to be good. Opening up the phone, he scrolled through the playlists before finding Rachmaninoff's name and clicking on the song. 

As the first few notes hit his ears, somber but powerful in their melody, he was reminded of Arvis’ words. Being human…  what did it mean to him? He hadn’t thoroughly explored that, not since his soul had been devoured the first time. Now, he wasn’t sure what he was.

But when he thought of Zephyr, of her smile, of her defiance and strength, his heart pounded in time to the dramatic timing of the piano keys ringing in his ears. 

Maybe she held the key to showing him the way.

  
  


* * *

 

“You sure you got those, Seliph?”

“I should be asking the same of you, Summoner. You’re carrying double the groceries.”

“Man, I got you, I got you. You take it easy, Seliph.”

“But are you  _ sure _ ? I don’t want you putting too much on yourself…”

Zephyr waved him off as she held her purchases close, sitting behind Eldigan as she, Seliph, and Sigurd rode back to the castle, groceries in tow. Zephyr wanted to fulfill Seliph’s wish to go to the market one day and she finally managed time for it. “I’ll be fine. I’m used to this back in my world. This is nothing compared to the amount of groceries I had to carry back home. And that was for three people! Although I don’t have to worry about it now that I’ve moved out.”

“You live on your own?” Seliph asked curiously with a tilt of his head. “What’s it like in your world? I can’t imagine it’s like our world.”

“It’s totally different from living in a castle,” Zephyr said excitedly. “It’s smaller, but feels like your own space, y’know? Sure it can get a little lonely without my folks, but I make do, especially since my big sis lives around the block from me. And there’s much to do in the city! It’s big and… well, it’s big! There’s always something happening!”

“Sounds like you’ve got an exciting life back at home,” Eldigan remarked with a small smile. “Got any hobbies besides listening to music on that strange device?”

Zephyr smirked. “I sing, though only when I’m alone. The Winter Festival was an exception to that rule. I’m a writer too, but most of the time I crochet.”

“Is that why you have all that yarn?” Sigurd asked now, nodding to the numerous skeins of yarn in one of the baskets. “What are you planning to make with that?”

“A blanket or two, some hats and mittens, that sort of thing. I’ve been dying to get back into the craft. Speaking of...” She dug in her pocket and pulled out two mittens, blue with white trimmings on the edges, and tossed them over to the Scion of Light. “Here, Seliph. I made these the other day. These should fit you.”

“Really?” Seliph slipped the gloves over his hands, flexing his fingers within their confines. The stitching was tight but stretched to fit. “I can keep these?”

“Yeah. I couldn’t think of anyone else with small enough hands that matched the color scheme perfectly, and they’re too small to fit me,” Zephyr said, watching with delight as Seliph looked them over in awe. “Besides, the other ones you had were tearing at the seams.”

“It is true I needed new gloves,” Seliph admitted. “This is a fantastic gift, Zephyr. I’m forever grateful.”

“Such craftsmanship,” Eldigan praised, giving the Summoner a gentle sideways glance. “You truly are gifted at your trade. How long have you been doing such a thing?”

“A few years now,” Zephyr replied, face beaming with pride - she didn’t even think the Heroes of this world would appreciate her hobby, so hearing all the compliments was making her very bubbly. “I learned about crocheting from my mom, but she couldn’t teach me because she’s left-handed and I’m right-handed. I had to find a teacher to actually teach me.”

“Crocheting is different depending on your dominant hand?” Sigurd asked now.

“It is. The problem with my mother teaching me was that her left was my right… and being a beginner, trying to mirror a left-handed person’s work is like trying to mirror a someone’s axe technique and you’ve been using a sword your whole life.”

“That is difficult when you put it that way.” Sigurd nodded, smiling all the while. “Nevertheless, even with that handicap, you’ve done well for yourself. I imagine you and my sister would be fast friends in that regard. She loves making clothes and other accessories as well.”

Zephyr scratched her head sheepishly. “T-thanks. I’m still not as good as I ought to be, and I’m learning new patterns as much as I can. I can make you and Eldigan a pair if you want.”

“I appreciate the offer, but I must decline,” the Lionheart responded. “My hands would be too stained with the blood drawn by Mystletainn to be any use for gloves, and I wish not to tarnish your handiwork.”

“Understandable.” She turned to Sigurd. “How about you?”

“I wouldn’t mind. How much for them?”

“What? Oh, nothing. You don’t have to pay me anything,” Zephyr said with a shake of her head. 

“But-”

The Holy Knight ducked an oncoming apple chucked at him from the Summoner. She had a smile on her face, but if the dark shadow casted on her forehead said anything else about her mood… “I said you don’t have to pay. Okay?”

“Y-yeah…” Sigurd sweatdropped nervously as Eldigan and Seliph chuckled. Zephyr chuckled a little too, quieting a little as the sun’s rays continued to sink lower and lower, reminding her of how long they’ve been out.

She looked at her bounty of yarn: gold, orange, green, white. She even managed to get the rare violet shade, a genuine violet too (it costed a pretty penny, but the material was top notch quality). She toyed with the fabric between her fingers, plush yet wiry in its texture. The purple reminded her of… of… 

“Zephyr?”

The Summoner shook herself out of her reverie to turn to a worried Seliph. “You alright? You look like you’ve been shaken by something.”

“Me? N-no, it’s nothing, Seliph. Just lost myself in my thoughts for a second.” Zephyr gave him a smile. “I’ll be better once we get back to the castle.” She yawned widely, stretching her arms wide. “Whew… didn’t know you’d like to shop this much, Seliph, I’m spent.”

“Eheh, I couldn’t help myself…”

“It’s not an issue. You would love shopping in my world, there’s so many markets there with even more stuff.”

“How much more?”

“Enough to fill a hundred of those markets we visited today, and then some.”

Seliph’s eyes were glowing. “Whoa, that much?”

“Yup!”

Such was the group’s merriment as they rode home… 

Unaware they were being watched…

* * *

 

Meanwhile, in the skies above….

“Thank you for bringing me out here, Valter.”

The Moonstone turned to the prince behind him, the wyvern’s pace slowing to a steady glide. “No thanks are needed, my liege. Although…” Valter gave a wry expression, an eyebrow raised. “What business would you have travelling out this way at this time of day? Even in the boundaries of Askr, danger still lurks...”

He smirked, thumbing his lance idly. “Although, I honestly wouldn’t mind letting out some steam. It’s been too long, I think…”

Lyon fumbled with his tome a bit, feeling comfort leafing through the thick pages. It was true that Emblian forces could still appear in the dead of the evening on Askran grounds, but they would be hard-pressed to get through with the strong Heroes here. He hadn’t even realized how late it had gotten… until he fell asleep with Rachmaninoff's Concerto playing on repeat. In spite of this, his determination had won out. “Ah… it’s just that… I was trying to see if I could catch Zephyr at the market. I… wanted to talk to her about something important…”

“Oh? Is that all, if I may ask?”

“That’s all.”

“Really?” Valter said. The general could smell a potential lie from anyone as well as he could smell the blood of his enemies, and Lyon was a terrible liar. “In that case, you could have just sent me as a messenger. Umbra’s a fast beast, and it wouldn’t have taken long. Right, girl?”

Umbra made a content growl, appreciative of the scritching her head received. Lyon double-backed, trying to think of some excuse. “It’s rather personal, Valter. I’d rather see her myself.”

“Too personal to tell me, sir? You know my lips are sealed.”

“I know that, but…”  _ I want to see her,  _ be _ with her _ , were the next words hanging in the air, but Lyon bit his tongue. There were things Valter need not know, and he already said too much. But Valter was a very perceptive man, and even if Lyon hadn’t said his next line, the general would’ve known anyway. A raspy chuckle filled his ears, containing a humor that wasn’t for once associated with his sadistic tendencies on the field. “My apologies… I couldn’t help myself,” he said once he calmed, but that signature wicked smile of his stayed. “That explains the impatience of yours earlier when you sought me out.”

Lyon’s face gained several shades of red at this. Had his haste been that noticeable? Gods, how reckless could he have been to let that show, and to the Moonstone of all people? “Impatience? I-I hadn’t- I mean, is it obvious…?”

Valter let out another laugh. “It does show quite a bit. But you need not worry. My lips are sealed, as I said before.”

Lyon felt a bead of sweat fall down his cheek. Gods, Valter was a real handful when he wanted to be. Sometimes he never really understood the maniacal wyvern rider and the way his mind worked. But maybe it was best that some people were never understood. 

Suddenly, the wyvern hissed vehemently, its movements coming to an abrupt halt. Lyon blinked, almost dropping his tome. “Valter, what’s wrong? Why did we stop?”

“Hm…” His dark green eyes scanned the land below him, stopping at a particular patch of forest. “Ah… I see we’ve got company.”

Below them, in a little clearing in the woods, was a platoon of cavaliers, more than two and a half dozen strong, all brandishing the Emblian emblem. Among them were a few archers, arrows docked and aimed at something in the distance--but where?

Valter tracked the archers’ line of fire southwest to where they were currently located, and they landed right on a familiar Summoner and her set of cavaliers. “Assassins… aiming for Zephyr and her group…”

“Assassins?!” Lyon exclaimed. What were Emblian forces doing so close to the castle undetected?! “How many are there?”

“About twenty and counting, and there may be more hiding elsewhere.” Valter grabbed his Cursed Lance, licking his lips. “A gorgeous bounty regardless. How tasty.”

Lyon grimaced. This couldn’t be good. And Zephyr wasn’t even aware that she was in the arrow’s crosshairs. There was no way to make it back to the castle in time to call for reinforcements! And if they were to warn Zephyr, they might be a target and get shot down as well!

_ ‘Think, Lyon, think! Zephyr’s about to get shot and I can’t have Valter just fly in recklessly without a plan. And that’s not even considering who else could be hiding! What do I do?’ _

Wait a minute. He looked at Naglfar, then back at the archers. Of course. 

“Valter, I have an idea. We need to stir some chaos and split the platoon in two,” Lyon explained. “Try to take your half out of the woods and into the open. Zephyr will have a chance to see them, and she can have time to prepare a counterattack while they lose their advantage.”

“And what of the other half?” Valter asked.

“I’ll wipe them out. I can take out those archers, it’s what my tome is specialized for.”

He stood up, Valter’s eyes showing a never before seen incredulousness. “My liege, are you planning to  _ jump _ ? And fight them yourself?”

“I’ll be fine,” Lyon assured him. “Just do as I ordered. And I give you permission to rout your half of the platoon as you see fit. The fewer enemies Zephyr has to deal with, the better.”

He leaped, robes fluttering in the wind as he plunged for the forest below. Valter blinked for a second before he scoffed. As he ordered, huh? The prince technically didn’t have dominion over him, at least not in this world.

...but he couldn’t help but like how this Lyon’s changed. Dropping into the fray himself, telling Valter to do what he wished with his victims… the old Lyon wouldn’t have even approved of such a ludicrous idea. Perhaps that was why he chose to follow him… maybe he had inherited Vigarde’s thirst for conquering his foes...

His grin reached his ears, and Umbra seemed to share in his bloody excitement. “I like this new prince,” he hissed. “Let’s go hunting, Umbra!”

Umbra chittered, and dove alongside the falling prince.

Seconds later, the quiet of the forest erupted into carnage. Back to the cavaliers' side, the riders' steeds whinnied in surprise when the explosive attacks started, nearly knocking off their occupants. 

“What the hell?!” Seliph swore, turning in the direction of the sudden explosion of sound that came from the forest edge. The sounds of clashing weapons and the distinct screech of a wyvern pierced the tranquil veil that surrounded the traveling heroes. “Who was that that just started falling out of the sky?”

“Never mind that, what’s going on in the woods?” Eldigan asked, a hand on the hilt of his sword, body tensed. “Is it the enemy?”

“Could be,” answered Sigurd, unsheathing the Divine Tyrfing. “But this close to the castle and we hear nothing? That’s extremely unsettling.”

“It was probably an ambush for us if that’s the case,” Zephyr said, grabbing Breidablik from her hip. “Sigurd, Eldigan, Seliph, prepare for battle!”

“Yes, ma’am!”

The thundering of hooves answered their suspicions as Emblian cavaliers were herded out into the open pathway by none other than Valter. His lance and wyvern were marred in blood, none of it his. He sweeped a horseman off his steed before the wyvern snatched him up in her jaws and snapped him clean in half. A curtain of crimson rained on the ground, some of it splashing Zephyr’s way. The held back choke of Seliph  was matched with Zephyr’s own horrified face. 

“God, Valter, show some restraint…” Zephyr grumbled irritably.  “Let’s go, guys! Into the fray!”

 

* * *

 

The battle had been over in minutes. The platoon was powerful, but it wasn’t anything the four of them couldn’t handle on their own. Eldigan looked over his shoulder at Zephyr, the demon sword glowing  faintly with the blood of its foes. “Zephyr, are you faring well?” he asked. “You didn’t get hit, did you?”

“I’m fine,” she said, although she did rub her thighs. All that bouncing around made them sore. “Are you guys okay?”

“Never better,” Seliph responded, with a following nod from Sigurd. Valter was sifting through the bodies, making sure they were all still down. The Summoner coughed to get his attention. “Valter.”

“Hm? Oh, yes, I’m well,” he replied with a smirk. It faded when he turned to the woods, where the sounds of fighting had grown quiet. “Lyon’s in there…”

“Wait, what?” Zephyr exclaimed, instantly panicking. Lyon was a bulky mage, no doubt about it, but he wasn’t Kliff; he couldn’t take on a lance unit without substantial injury, much less any other melee fighter! “Lyon’s fighting by himself?! Why didn’t you help him?”

“He ordered me to focus on my half of the platoon. Said his tome was made to take out archers.”

_ ‘He went to take out the archers? That explains why I didn’t see any of them here…’  _ Zephyr thought.  _ ‘Even still…!’ _

“We got to go and help him!” she announced to the group. “He’s in danger in there by himself-”

A vortex of purple magic surged through the air, lightning striking down on the unfortunate foe who was in its path, sending a wave of energy towards the other fighters, forcing them to brace against the blast. From the shockwave appeared the prince of Grado himself, his robes torn and his figure battered, but he was alive. He coughed harshly, holding his smarting side. 

“M-my apologies, Zephyr,” he groaned, stumbling to a halt before he fell to his knees, caught only by the Summoner’s embrace. “I went a little overboard…”

“Overboard is an understatement.” Zephyr said with a shake of her head. She was faintly aware that her cloak was stained by his wounds, but she didn’t care. As angry as she should have been for his actions, she couldn’t find it in herself to properly reprimand him. “Lyon, what were you thinking jumping in by yourself? You could have gotten yourself killed out there…”

“I didn’t want you to worry.” Lyon flashed a small smile her way, a smile that, despite the pain, was a warm one. “Or hurt at the very least. This was all my planning, so if you want to blame anyone-”

The Summoner poked him in the forehead before he could finish his sentence. “I don’t blame you,” she told him. “If anything, I am to blame for not paying attention. What you did was incredibly reckless… but it was a very brave maneuver. You saved our lives today, Lyon. I’m forever grateful.”

The profound blush that marked Lyon’s cheeks could be seen on a cloudy day. Gods, this was embarrassing. But if his marching heartbeat didn’t say otherwise, he didn’t know what did. He laid his head flat on her shoulder, chest heaving with exertion, his ragged breaths tickling her neck. “T-thank you…”

Zephyr’s cheeks warmed, shivering just a little as his breath hit the spot where Fomortiis placed his mark on her neck. She smiled, patting his shoulder. “You’re welcome.”

Lyon’s smile grew the slightest bit larger at that.

“And I don’t get credit for at least bringing the platoon to your attention?” Valter said, mock-hurt in his voice. “I see where your priorities lie, Summoner.”

Zephyr rolled her eyes. “Put an egg in your shoe and beat it, Valter. If you want credit, then you could help me out with Lyon.”

Now it was Valter’s turn to roll his eyes. “Whatever you say, Summoner.” He moved over to pick up the prince, easily slinging him across his shoulder like a ragdoll.

“We should hurry back and inform Prince Alfonse and Princess Sharena at once,” Sigurd suggested. “There might be more enemies out here, so we have to be fast.”

“Don’t gotta tell me twice,” the Summoner said, hopping on the back of Eldigan’s horse. “Valter, stay vigilant. Make sure we aren’t followed.”

“You’re getting awfully comfortable ordering me around,” Valter quipped as he got on his wyvern. “You’re lucky I’m in a good mood. I’d teach you some manners.”

With that, he took off into the twilight skies. Seliph shook his head. “How do you tolerate that man, Zephyr?” he asked as he clambered aboard Sigurd’s horse. “He’s a sadistic maniac! Did you see the way he practically butchered those men?”

“I can’t even answer that, man,” Zephyr said with a shrug. “I just deal the best way I can with people like him.”

“Henry would get along with that guy, I’m sure,” Eldigan commented, his face hiding nothing of his disgruntlement with the wyvern rider. “He’s as unnerving as Valter, and shares the same blood-hungry intent.”

“You’d be surprised to know that  _ Henry _ doesn’t like the guy. Says he’s “Too scary for his own crows to approach”.”

“You’ve got to be kidding.”

“I kid you not, Eldigan.”

Up above, Valter snorted derisively, able to faintly hear bits and pieces of their conversation. “How rude of them to call me out,” he chuckled. “We just did as we were told. Besides, no need to hold back on an enemy that’s constantly attacking us. We can be at liberty to dice them up as needed.”

Umbra chittered in agreement, hissing at the cavaliers below. Valter patted her on the snout. “There, there. Ignore them. They’ll understand one day. Or not, heheh…”

“V-Valter…”

The mumbling voice of Lyon refocused the Moonstone’s attention. “Valter… did I… did I do the right thing? Did you think I did well in the battle?”

“...” The wyvern general was very shook. Did he do  _ well _ ? What was Valter supposed to say to that? It just came out of the blue! He’d be the last person to ask on battle performance… but if he had to make a guess…

“I never seen you this eager to jump into the fray before,” he answered after a brief pause. “You always stayed in the back… now you leap at your foes like I do. It’s something I wouldn’t continue to do in the near future, sir… you got people like yours truly to mop up those minnows. But… you taking on the fight head-on… it almost makes me proud.”

“....heheh,” Lyon chuckled weakly. “T-thank you, Valter.”

The Moonstone simply grunted in reply. Lyon relaxed into his hold, feeling sleep take him. Taking the fight head-on… yeah. It was something he’d never do in the past, forget fighting altogether. Maybe he really was growing into what he truly was.

Yes. What  _ he  _ was, uninfluenced by demons and other third parties.

Human.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wasn't sure if Valter's wyvern has a name in his own game, but if he doesn't, the wyvern's Umbra, and no one can stop me. 
> 
> Here's a sneak peek for chapter 11 though:
> 
> "How about you show me what those wings can do?"
> 
> Violet wings quivered, anxious to take to the skies, an anxiousness they never felt before. How could Lyon refuse?
> 
> The mage smiled. "Of course, Zephyr."


	11. Twilight Flight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A holiday special that's actually early ? BLESS NAGA!
> 
> Anyway, this chapter came out several different ways - originally, it was going to be a villain valentine party or something, but I couldn't quite pull it off. Then it turned into a cheesy rom-com, then a cheesier romance gift plot, and then it became this (after a couple of tries). Let's just say I'm not great with writing romance in general, so bear with me. :P
> 
> Despite the many edits, I had fun playing around with this chapter. Hope you guys enjoy and have a wonderful (early) Valentine's Day!

 

* * *

 

Chapter 11:

Twilight Flight

 

After reporting to the Askran prince and princess of the events the evening prior and a group trip to the infirmary that required little more than a healing staff’s care, Zephyr and the others had left to rest for the night while extra security was put out and scouts were  sent to monitor anymore attacks from Embla. The night was a tense one, but one that thankfully had seen no other signs of the enemy. 

As for Lyon, his dreams were empty this time around. When he awoke that morning, he felt… oddly refreshed. On most nights, his delightful dreams turned ugly by the Demon King’s influence. Fomortiis never really slept, at least not deeply. (He would occasionally scold Lyon for “making such a racket” when he was trying to have some peace and quiet, something the prince found painfully hypocritical when Lyon wanted the same thing.) 

The only time he was truly silent was back in his world as he was gathering energy, conserving as much as he could while he waited to resurrect his new body. He only used as much power as he needed, knowing that this mortal body wasn’t used to battle as much as he liked. 

Speaking of the Demon King, not hearing him was unusual for Lyon, at least for this long. This was the longest he hadn’t heard from him since he arrived here. He could still feel his presence, if only faintly, and if he concentrated hard enough. Had his powers been that scrambled? He was by no means in a hurry to see him - it was  _ the king of demons  _ after all, and the break from him was honestly a blessing. 

Lyon shook his head. He shouldn’t be worried about him. Not at all. Not after all the crap he had been through because of him. He needed this reprieve.

As he prepared for the day ahead, he wondered about his next course of action. Should he train? His aching side as he leaned over to grab Naglfar told him to stay put. Visiting Zephyr was probably his next course, but she might be busy dealing with what happened yesterday evening. Best to give her some space before he attempted anymore talks. 

And then there was the biggest elephant in the room -- or rather, on his mind. Ephraim. 

Immediately the thought was quashed, smothered by a cloud of stubborness. No. Not yet anyway, Lyon wasn’t ready. Even with the Demon King asleep, he couldn’t trust himself to not lose control again. Fomortiis could sense the presence of others, and the demon was intimately aware of what the Renais twins’ spiritual signatures felt like. He knew Ephraim would stop him, knew he would put him down if things got out of hand…

But Lyon didn’t want it to come to that. 

_ ‘Later,’  _  Lyon resolved, hoping he would have the courage to pick himself up and actually make the attempt. 

He stepped out of his room to the decorated halls of the Askran castle. Streamers of reds and pinks dotted ceilings and walls, while the smell of sweets filled the air so thickly it made him cough. Various hearts of different sizes could be seen everywhere. What was this? And when had this been set-up?

The thought came to him in an instant. Valentine’s Day. 

Lyon gulped, his hands suddenly shaky. His memories with the holiday weren’t… the fondest. Mainly because it involved him trying to confess to Eirika… and he found out that she hadn’t felt the same way. He hadn’t felt so hot about it afterwards, and it didn’t help that Grado celebrated every year. It only added salt to his gaping wounds. 

A dash of red cut across the corner of his peripheral, and he found himself face to face with the commander of the Order. Anna was practically bouncing on the spot in her Valentine’s Day outfit. “Hello, Prince Lyon~!” Anna said cheerfully, handing Lyon a round piece of candy stamped with the Askran emblem. “Hope you’ve been doing incredibly well on this fine day!”

“U-um…” Lyon blinked, befuddled as he looked at the candy. He hadn’t seen Anna this bouncy in a while, and she was  _ bouncing  _ with serious pep today. “What is this?”

“Caramel fudge! Made fresh, although that’s everything here, teehee~!” Anna chuckled. “We’re also doing little Valentine’s Day activities and games, and we’re even doing gift deliveries for those who have significant others!” 

Curious bright red eyes met purple. “Do  _ you  _ have anyone special? I can help out with any of the deliveries, no charge!”

“I-I…” Lyon couldn’t hide the feverish flush that sprawled across his cheeks, looking away. Anna giggled again.

“Looks like someone does~!” Anna said. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone. Anyway, I gotta blast! Hope you have fun~!” The commander raced off, leaving Lyon standing in his doorway more confused than ever. He never understood her either…

But gifts? Of course, he had to get one! He had been so caught up thinking about the past, he hadn’t even realized thought of it. What would he even get? He hadn’t a clue, and despite the time he had known the Summoner, he knew only a little bit of what she liked. And it was awfully last minute too...

Unconsciously, he felt the magic in his body swim through his veins, particularly in his shoulders and back. An idea came to him then. 

It would take time… and he needed some space.

He knew where to go.

As he took off, he began munching on the candy Anna gave him, and hummed in delight at the marvelous taste of caramel and fudge melting on his tongue… and were those  _ walnuts?  _ Gods, what a gift…!

Maybe he should invest in getting Zephyr some more of these too. 

 

* * *

 

“Hey, Zephyr!”

Zephyr’s only warning of someone coming up behind her was the heavy sound of metallic clanking before being scooped up in a headlock by Hector. She yelped, instinctively grabbing hold of the muscular arm holding her securely (but not crushingly) under her chin. Being a small Summoner meant she was an even easier target to lift with ease.

“H-Hector!” she yelled, sputtering in both annoyance and humor at the noogie her poor hair was receiving. Zephyr had forgotten how notoriously rough and tumble this man could be with his friends as well as his foes. Considering this Hector had been wearing Uther’s armor, it was like getting hit with a truck. “S-stop that, man! I just got my hair finished!”

“Ah, sorry!” Hector dropped the Summoner, rubbing the back of his head apologetically. “I didn’t know! I was just coming to say hi in the spirit of Valentine’s Day… and just making sure you were okay from what happened last night. I heard what happened with the ambush.”

“Urgh… yeah, I’m cool,” she said, gathering herself and reclaimed her footing. “Nothing I couldn’t handle. If it weren’t for Lyon and Valter flushing them out, I’d be in a worse state right now.”

“Never thought I’d see the day where that loon actually becomes the hero,” Hector remarked with an uncharacteristic shiver. “I swear he sees everyone as something he wants to kill. It’s unnerving. And Lyon! I always thought he was like Canas, being a bookworm and all. Didn’t think he’s the fighting type.”

Not the fighting type. Yeah. That’s what Zephyr would have said and Lyon would have agreed with, in the past. Now… “He doesn’t like combat… but he’s been getting better. I’ve been trying to teach him to dig his heels in and be courageous… and I think he’s learning. I’m proud of him, even if what he did was reckless.”

“No kidding. Diving into the fray like he did? And I thought I was the reckless one.”

“You still are the reckless one. Remember when you decided you could take on a horde of Excaliber units by yourself and you didn’t let Sigurd buff your Resistance first?”

Hector sweatdropped. “Okay, so maybe I got carried away. But-!”

“And the time you wanted to test out Ishtar’s Mjolnir against your Maltet and you got fried?”

“That was different! She was faster than my ice could freeze the lightning!”

“And the time you challenged Lukas to a duel that lasted the entire day and you both passed out because neither of you could make a dent?”

“Now you’re being mean.”

Zephyr shrugged. “Anyway, how’s your Valentine’s Day going?”

“Great! I was heading to see if my gift got delivered to Lilina,” Hector responded. “I got her a hefty bunch this year, so I wanna make sure they all got to the right person safe and sound, y’know?”

“Oh, I’m sure Anna’s got it covered,” Zephyr reassured him. “She’s a bit stingy on prices, but she’s always got your back in terms of service, I know that much.”

“You’re right on the prices, ha ha ha!” Hector bellowed in his merry laughter, and Zephyr couldn’t help but laugh along. His happiness was quite infectious to even the most mean-spirited souls (except for Zephiel;  _ never  _ Zephiel). 

“So, Zephyr, I assume you got a lot of valentines coming your way, eh?” Hector asked once he calmed. He raised a mischievous brow. “Got any admirers?” 

“Admirers? W-what? N-no, nothing like that!” she stammered. “But if valentines equals gifts, then yes, I did get a bunch of those.” Zephyr sweatdropped, sheepishly fiddling with Breidablik’s handle. “I got so many I nearly couldn’t fit them all in my room.”

“You jest?” 

“I’m not. Although… it’s nice to get valentines for once.” Zephyr’s smile was a rueful one, one that truly didn’t reach her face as it usually did. “I never really got any valentines back in my world. The irony is I’m the one giving most of the time… so seeing this many gifts come my way… it’s a bit much to handle.”

“I mean, you’re our Summoner! Why wouldn’t you be getting a lot of gifts?” Hector said, patting Zephyr heavily on the shoulder. “Everyone looks up to you, and you’ve done so much for us all. Heck, I don’t see why you  _ didn’t  _ get any real gifts back in your world. It’s a shame, really. You’re one of the greatest people I’ve met, and I mean that. You got a knack for tactics, a nice sense of humor, you can hang with the roughest of us, including me-!”

He looked down to see Zephyr almost in tears, and the Maltet user panicked. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, calm down, Zephyr! I hadn’t meant to upset you! I was just complimenting you is all I was getting at, honest to the gods!”

“I’m not upset. Quite the opposite in fact.” Zephyr wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “I’m overjoyed at hearing those words. It means… it means a lot to hear that. It means I’m actually doing something right…”

She sniffed, her smile gentling into something warmer. “Thank you, Hector.”

Hector sighed in relief, thankful that he hadn’t been the cause of something catastrophic. He gave his traditional goofy but well meaning Hector grin. “Anytime, Zephyr. You know you can count on me if things get tough. This armor’ll protect you through and through.”

Zephyr nodded. “I’ll hold you to it.  Now, shouldn’t you be going to see Lilina?”

Hector started, eyes wide. “Gods, you’re right! I almost forgot! See ya, Zephyr!” 

He promptly  _ dashed  _ off down the corridor, the fastest Zephyr had seen the man run. That armor really didn’t slow him down…

“Phew… glad he didn’t throttle me hard enough to make me break Lyon’s gift,” she said once he was out of earshot. “I just gotta find him… add the finishing touches first, don’t wanna give him an unfinished product, Zephyr...”

She thought about Hector’s words beforehand. Admirers… did Lyon admire her the same way she did with him? 

As she made her way to her room, she found a note on her door in some of the most hurried scrawl she had seen. Adjusting her glasses, she read it to the best of her ability:

 

_ “Dear Summoner, _

 

_ If you can, meet me at the balcony above the royal gardens this evening. I wish to talk about something of great importance. _

 

_ -Lyon.” _

“Something of great importance…” Zephyr inspected this note carefully. Lyon was usually one to be rather reclusive about his feelings, at least with people that he didn’t trust or if he didn’t feel comfortable. The fact that he asked this of her…

Zephyr shook her head. No, it didn’t mean anything, it couldn’t mean anything… why was she getting her hopes up on that?

Or maybe she was being pessimistic. She’d see when she got there.

 

* * *

 

It had been later that evening when Lyon had finished his preparations. He paced around one of  the castle balconies, holding Naglfar close to his chest. He was surprised that his pacing hadn’t left the floor in shambles by now.

What if Zephyr… didn’t accept his gift? What if she… what if this ended up like the last time, all those years ago with Eirika? The entire prospect of even trying this himself was a daunting task. His entire body was shaking like a broken branch dangling haphazardly in the breeze. 

“Oh, what if she didn’t see the note? Maybe I should have just got her an actual gift instead doing this…” he muttered to himself. He shook his head, a part of him resolute. “No, Lyon, this is your only chance. I can’t get another one.”

“Another one what?”

Lyon jumped back so hard he hit the railing, hurting his foot in the process. He looked to see Zephyr with a tiny basket in hand. Her hood was down and revealed her newly braided hair, taut against her scalp and draped across her shoulders like a bushel of vines. It was an odd sight, a style that was a complete spin on her usually straight hair. But as odd it was, he found it made her stand out that much more.

“Oh, Zephyr! U-um… sorry about jumping, I didn’t think you’d be here so soon,” Lyon stammered, threatening to drop his tome, his heart thumping like a hammer on an armored knight. “You look… beautiful. I love the braids.”

“Thanks!” Zephyr replied with a bright smile, and gods it was bright. He never felt such warmth radiate off of any one person before. “Silvia actually made these herself.”

“Wow… that’s impressive…” Lyon peered closer at the way the braids gripped at her scalp remorselessly, and he found his own head beginning to throb just looking at them. That could not be comfortable... “Pardon me for asking, but do they hurt? They seem to be pulling awfully hard...”

“A little, but it’ll go away with time,” Zephyr admitted, flinching when one of her braids tugged a smidge too tight for her liking. “Unfortunately, I don’t have any easily accessible painkillers on hand like I did back in my world, so I have to grin and bear it.” She then quickly added when she saw Lyon didn’t look quite convinced, “I swear, it’s only temporary. The pain isn’t as bad as it looks, honest!”

Lyon  _ still  _ didn’t look very sure. He knew nothing of braids to begin with (Eirika never wore them, and he didn’t know anyone else that did either), and seeing them deeply embedded into her skin as they were made him just a touch on edge. “I’ll trust you on that,” he finally responded after a moment with a tiny smile. He focused his attention on the tiny fibrous basket she held in her arm. “What is that?”

“Oh, this? It’s a gift… for you…” Zephyr bashfully plucked out the gift from the basket and handed to the mage, to which he quietly gasped. It was a crocheted lavender brooch in the shape of an orchid. In the flower’s center was a dazzling amethyst gem.

“That’s for me?” Lyon said as he held the brooch carefully, as if it would shatter from the slightest touch. The gemstone was as genuine as they came, shining with a star’s radiance. “This is a gorgeous gift, Zephyr… how long…?”

“Don’t worry about it,” the Summoner told him, knowing full well that if he knew the trials it took for her to nail this project perfectly he’d feel horrible about it and try to give it back. “Just know that all of this is for you…”

She took the brooch and reached up, having to stand on her toes. She clipped it on the front portion of his outfit with a satisfying  _ snap!  _ and looked at her handiwork with an even bigger grin. “Ta-da~!” she exclaimed, grabbing a pocket mirror and letting Lyon look.  “That fits perfectly!”

Lyon was redder than the evening backdrop behind him. “O-oh my… this… oh, Zephyr… thank you… I can’t repay you for this...”

“You donut, you don’t got to repay me anything,” she scolded, lightly smacking him on the forehead with the basket. “It’s a gift made from the bottom of my heart. It’s yours.”

“A-alright…” 

There was a brief pause before the Summoner said seriously, “I read the note that you left on my door earlier. Everything good, Lyon?”

Lyon gulped. This was it. The moment he had been preparing for all day, the moment he literally trained for. His knees quaking with the force of Mjolnir’s wrath, he unsteadily began to speak, “It’s all good… just…  I needed to talk. It’s…been on my mind for ages, and I just… oh, Zephyr, it’s been weighing on my mind and I just-”

“Easy, Lyon,” said Zephyr worriedly, noticing how riled the mage was becoming. “Take your time and breathe man, breathe…”

The prince closed his eyes and did as instructed, letting loose a few trembling breaths. His knees and body slowed their tremors until they stopped altogether. It didn’t help that his  mind was racing faster than he could put things down. Two minutes went by as he collected his thoughts one by one, and he finally relaxed enough to say, “How about I show you something first? It’s… my gift to you.”

In a quiet flourish of magic, his wings materialized into existence, glittering in the sun’s dying rays. Zephyr’s following gasp of awe sent a thrill of wonder in his chest.

“Whoa… they’re… so bright… like a jewel,” she breathed, a finger hesitantly grazing the tips. A violent shiver crawled through them at this, and she snatched her hand back, peering at Lyon’s face in case she had hurt him. “I’m sorry, did I…?”

“I’m fine, it just caught me off guard.” And Lyon was truthful: he showed no signs of discomfort, but his cheeks were a permanent rosy color. 

“Man… these are so cool, Lyon!” Zephyr was looking his wings over, ducking underneath them and examining them bottom to top with ill-disguised intrigue and amazement. “How’d you do it? I think I remember you telling me this was Naglfar’s influence, right?”

“Well, yes… it’s one of Naglfar’s abilities,” relayed Lyon, adjusting his wings to fold neatly on his back to enable Zephyr to look without smacking into them. “Naglfar is a physical link to the Demon King’s powers. What I found out recently is that it is not just his magic I can use; because it’s a direct link to the Demon King, I can use whatever he can use… to an extent. I am unaware how far that extent goes. My wings… are based off of his own.”

He clenched a determined fist, an adamant resolution crossing his face.  “It is something I wish to master… to control for my own reasons, not someone else’s, and certainly not for that demon. I want to make this magic my own and use it for good.”

“I admire that resolve,” Zephyr said with a toothy smile. “And there’s no better time to learn like the present, after all. So... how about you show me what those wings can do?”

Violet wings quivered, anxious to take to the skies, an anxiousness they and himself never felt before. How could Lyon refuse?  _ Why  _ would Lyon refuse?

The mage smiled. "Of course, Zephyr. I was just about to ask if you wanted to take a quick flight around… consider it my Valentine’s Day gift for you.”

“O-oh… certainly…” Zephyr’s cheeks were beginning to grow warmer by the second. “So… am I climbing on your back or…?”

Lyon blinked, and his own face became sheepishly red. He hadn’t even thought about that. “Just… well… I’ll carry you. It’s better for us, I think.”

“Wait, are you sure-”

Without hesitation, Lyon managed to sweep her off her feet and carry her bridal style. This was  a considerable feat, seeing as how the mage wasn’t the strongest unit in the order, and that the Summoner herself was heavier than her small form suggested. Steadying his footing, he took several steps back from the balcony’s edge, taking another calming breath to focus. His wings rustled with a silent impatience.

Then he ran with all of his might and jumped over the railing, the wind billowing around them as they fell. He was faintly aware of Zephyr’s yells and the death grip she placed on his shoulders, but his senses were primarily heightened around his magic, sending a surge of it to the top of his wings, causing them to unfurl like boat sails. Step one complete. Now came the hard part. He just had to finish this strong… concentrate, Lyon! His heart threatened to burst from his chest. He couldn’t mess this up now!

“Hold on!” he shouted over the buffeting wind, and his wings snapped against the opposing current to propel them upward. Zooming past the gardens and cutting  into the thin cloud layer, he redirected the magic from his wings and towards his body, and stopped the flow right at the center of his back, letting minute increments to travel throughout the wings to balance himself and not get tossed about in the gale that followed their ascension. His hair whipping around his face, Lyon angled his wings and evened his flight, dropping into a steady cruising speed.

He let go of his breath, realizing he had been holding it this entire time. His heart and his lungs were in his stomach from the dive and ascent, and he felt utterly weightless. Lyon looked at the horizon before them, then at the gargantuan castle and its equally enormous garden below. His eyes had grown to the size of his book; he always knew the castle was big, no doubts there, but to grasp at its whole enormity was something to behold. Goosebumps walking up and down his body, and he held on tighter to the Summoner so he didn’t drop her. 

He… he did it. He had really done it. He succeeded in doing this, and with his own power. At that point in time, he didn’t know if he should have been more proud or more elated, but in the end it didn’t matter. 

_ He did it without fear. _

He peered down at his cargo once he had gotten over his starstruck achievement. “Are you alright?” he asked of the Summoner once he was sure they were stable, the sound of his beating wings drowning out the turbulence.

Zephyr was panting as if she had just been in the fight for her life, and Lyon could feel her body tremble in his grasp, the unmistakable look of terror and wonder reflected in her eyes. Her palms were sweaty around his neck, and their grip kept slipping. After a minute of no response, she eventually replied with a semi-hoarse voice, while viewing the setting sun in front of them, the moon and first stars waking up to the sun’s place, “Whew… I’m all right now... I just needed some warning first.”

The prince’s wings wilted. “My apologies. I wasn’t even thinking about scaring you like that. I’ll remember for next time.”

“Next time, hm?” Her brow raised, but she showed no intent to decline the idea of future rides. “You really  _ have  _ been wanting to do this with me for a while. Why didn’t you say so before? I would have been totally down with this.”

“I… I didn’t have the confidence before to ask… or to try flying for real,” Lyon answered, avoiding her gaze. “So when I realized what today was… I had to make this opportunity count. But then… I wasn’t sure if this even counted as a real gift… or worse, you’d be too frightened to try.”

“Lyon, it’s the  _ thought  _ that matters the most in a gift,” Zephyr told him encouragingly, moving some of her wildly thrashing braids back so they didn’t smack Lyon in the face. “This is one of the most unique ways to celebrate the holiday, and quite frankly, once I get over the fear, it totally rocks. There are scarier drops back in my world, so I can get over this pretty quick. You’re all good.”

“R-really?” Lyon smiled abashedly over his initial thoughts, his previously fading blush blooming once again. “Well, thank you. I’d love to do this again with you, if we’re able. I always found the thought of doing this with you… would be a lovely activity outside of battle. Just the two of us-”

*smooch*

His words stopped immediately when he was kissed on the cheek. Blinking, he moved his head in what must have seemed like slow motion, and saw Zephyr’s heartfelt expression. “Zephyr… did you…?”

“Did… did you not like that?” Her smile shrank, and she turned away shamefully. “I’m sorry, that was rude of me-”

It was her turn to be interrupted with a kiss of Lyon’s own, this time right on the lips. It was a chaste one, and it was gone as soon as it had came. The world had ceased to move in that moment for them, although, for Zephyr at least, it might as well as have been stuck in a time loop.

Had he… had she… had they just…? The questions spun in the Summoner’s head for them, and her mind was fuzzy and muddled, unable to comprehend it all. But through the murk of her thoughts, Lyon’s following whisper made its way through them clear as day:

“ _ That _ was I wanted to talk about.”

He kissed her again, and this time, somewhere in that scrambled mess, she finally acknowledged what he had meant by those words and she delightfully kissed back, all the while in the background twilight bid these star crossed lovers good night.

  
  
  



	12. New Dawn Strife

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The dawn of a new day brings many things- including one of a dangerous scheme.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, sorry for the wait, you all. You can't imagine how many times this had to be rewritten. By the end of it all, I was - and still am - a little burnt out. I honestly didn't know how to go about this chapter in particular, which can explain a possible quality drop (which I apologize in advance for). I'll probably take a tiny break to recuperate.

 

 

* * *

 

Chapter 12

 

New Dawn Strife

  
  


The rest of the flight around the castle was smooth and uneventful, a ringing serenity that had settled around the duo as night finally arrived. Sensing that his magic was running low, Lyon decided to call it a day, and dived down back to the surface. He skimmed the edge of the lake of which he fell in a few days ago, the water tickling his wingtips as it rose to meet them. A sleepy Zephyr watched with a tired fixation as droplets sprinkled her glasses. What a pretty sight, she wondered. 

He finally touched land, coming to a jogging stop. His breath was heavy as his wings dispersed into nothing, setting the Summoner down. Immediately she stumbled, and fell right on her butt. “Oof! Oh, my legs… can’t feel them…”

“W-what? Can’t feel them?” Lyon said in a panic, but Zephyr chimed in, “Don’t panic, they’re just numb. I’ll shake it off in a second.”

It took a minute, but she stood on coltish legs, dusting herself off. She gave a great yawn, stretching her arms out in a wide arc over her head. “Wow… that was great, Lyon. I loved it. Now I’m totally hype for trying that again sometime.”

“I’m glad to hear that.” A gentle smile etched its way onto his face, internally cheering himself on. “To be able to control such power makes me that much closer to calling it my own. One day I might not even need these wings to fly and I’ll just be able to zoom around without them.”

“Now  _ that  _ would be pretty lit.”

“...lit?”

“Oh, right, sorry.” Zephyr figured out her mistake and explained, “Slang from my world. It’s supposed to describe something that’s incredibly cool.”

“Ah.”

There was a brief pause for the two of them before it was broken by yet another yawn, courtesy of the Summoner. “Whew! ‘Scuse me,” she said drowsily. “I’m beat. Today was a rough one.”

“It is quite late, I must admit. Didn’t know we’d be flying this long, but I have no complaints,” Lyon agreed, stifling a yawn himself. The heavy use of magic had taken a serious toll on his strength. “May I accompany you to your room then?”

“Of course. I never liked walking the halls at night anyway, at least not by myself. I somehow end up jumpscared by some of the more nightly denizens like Valter.”

Lyon sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He couldn’t believe his ears. “I can attest to that. Valter was notorious for his… midnight pursuits back in Grado. He has startled me on multiple occasions. I just can’t believe he’s still doing this.”

“Yikes. How do you deal with him?”

“I did what I had to. Eventually I found what routes he took around the castle, and avoided him.” 

“Smart. I should probably start doing the same.”

They made the walk back in relative peace and little fanfare. The only ones wandering about was the occasional patrol monitoring the halls, and they waved Zephyr off as they duo walked past. Luckily, there wasn’t anyone there to provide jumpscares along the way by the time they reached Zephyr’s room.

“Finally~!” Zephyr quietly exclaimed. “Man, I hate the fact my room’s so far out from everything else. You can’t imagine the amount of times I’ve gotten lost when I first got here. It’s ridiculous, I tell you! If it weren’t for the fact it’s so close to the dining hall, I’d switch rooms.”

Lyon laid his back against the wall, finding himself agreeing with her yet again. He never truly realized the extent of how far her room was to the rest of the barracks. “I can see why. Gods… if I had had the energy, I’d teleport you here.”

“No need. I don’t want you to push yourself.” She turned to him, and something in her face made Lyon beam that much more. “Thank you for offering though. Walking with me makes up for teleporting me for sure. Did you want to stay here for tonight though? I got room, and I know your place is a bit of ways from here.”

Lyon’s face bloomed threefold. Sleeping in a lady’s bedroom… invited or otherwise… the idea struck him with such embarrassment it was akin to being hit with Mjolnir. “N-n-no, I-I’m fine,” he stammered quickly, waving his hands about. “The offer is kind, but I must decline. I can make it back on my own, promise.”

The Summoner’s eyebrows knitted together. “Are you sure about that? You’re as worn out as I, if not more so.”

The prince calmed, a confident light in his lavender eyes. “Worn out as I am, I will cope with the journey back. You have my word.” He leaned down, laying a soft kiss on Zephyr’s lips as if to reassure her, earning him a small squeak of surprise. “I shall see you in the morning. Rest easy.”

As he pulled away and turned on his heel, he heard the Summoner say one last thing, something that made him stop and his heart skyrocket into the heavens:

“Love you, Lyon.”

He turned his head back around, his smile a lantern in the darkness, violet eyes twinkling.

“I love you too, Zephyr.”

* * *

 

Much later….

**“Kid, do you feel that?”**

Julius opened his eyes, blearily registering his dark surroundings in his and Ishtar’s shared room. The sun hadn’t even been properly roused yet. “What is it, you stinking lizard?” he whispered irritably. “It’s too early in the morning for this.”

**“Fomortiis… he’s gone silent for the last day or two. His spiritual signature is all but disappeared.”**

“What?” This got Julius’ attention, and he sat up as quietly as he could without disturbing the other occupant. He focused his magic to seek out Lyon’s specifically, careful not to get too close for fear of detection. He blinked, noticing what Loptous was talking about. Fomortiis was present… but awfully muted. “You’re right… what’s happened?”

 **“I haven’t the faintest clue,”** Loptous agreed with a questionable hiss. **“But if I have to hazard a guess just based on what I’ve seen, I’d say he’s in a state of inanimation. If he were dying, his signature would be flickering.”**

“Inanimation?” This really got Julius’ gears going. “What for? And why?”

**“Most of us that share a host can go into such a state when our hosts, ourselves, or a combination of the two are damaged in a severe way,”** Loptous explained. **“You may not remember, but after our arena fight I was forced into such a state for a brief period of time. I regenerated most of my health in a few hours with this method, but I had to manually sit still the rest of the way. You also managed to heal significantly faster too, if you recall how your broken arm mended itself quite well. It’s an efficient system, one that supercharges the healing process…. But one that carries risks.”**

“Okay, that’s all well and good, but again,  _ why _ ?” Julius asked pointedly, and he got zapped in his left arm for his troubles. 

**“Hush, brat, I was getting to that,”** spat the black dragon.  **“It can be good to go into such a deep torpor to recover - some of us have done this to escape detection and play dead from our enemies when we’re really just biding our time. However, to stay in that state any longer than a couple of hours or to rapidly abuse it in a short timespan can lead to rapid spirit decay. When we sleep that deeply to heal, whatever energy we have left goes into overdrive and puts all of its efforts into healing.  It’s a double-edged sword, and for Fomortiis, he’s pushing his luck. And spirit decay is irreversible. If he’s really inanimate for this long, something must have wounded him deeply.”**

Loptous chortled, licking his chops.  **“What it was that did it, I don’t know and I don’t care. It’s lucky for us. That means we can get the jump on Lyon without his lackey interfering.”**

“Huh. Guess that really does work out in our favor then. Lyon doesn’t stand a chance without his helper.” A grin made its way to the Scion of Darkness’ face, and the already dark room grew darker still. “When do we strike?”

**“Anytime. We’ll want to be prepared, for as weak as Lyon is, he is still proficient in the dark arts as much as you are. We want to defeat him in the most efficient way possible without significant harm to ourselves.”**

“Heh, what are you, scared? The little twerp could barely keep up with us in the arena,” Julius jeered. “We don’t have Fomortiis to worry about jumping in and ruining our fun this time. I say we can take our time and mess with him.”

**“...”** Loptous was silent before he let out a uproarious laugh that rang in Julius’ mind. The mage could feel the dragon’s claws clasp on his shoulders, holding him close to his scaly chest.  **“So malicious… I’m starting to think you’re hanging around me too much.”**

“Not like you’re always hanging around me.”

**“You’re right, you’re right, I apologize,”** was Loptous’ sarcastic remark.  **“In all seriousness… I quite like this new you. No hesitation, a thirst for revenge… even more so than in our world. Let’s keep at it, yes?”**

“Hmph. I don’t need your compliments to know that,” the mage scoffed. “Now would you do me a favor and zip it? I’d like to sleep again.”

**“Very well. Mortals, the lot of you. Never understood the need for sleep.”**

“Didn’t you just explain the need for your kind’s need for sleep?”

A stronger shock shot through his back, and Julius bit his lip to keep from waking Ishtar with his grunt.  **“Shut it, and sleep, annoying brat.”**

“Stinking lizard.”

As Julius settled down to sleep again, little did either of them know Ishtar had been awake the whole time, listening in to the (one-sided) conversation. A cold sweat came over her, hands clammy as the words replayed over and over. She didn’t need to hear Loptous to know what was up.

Was… was Julius really planning on going this far for revenge? This was in no way good… and incredibly dangerous.

She had to warn Lyon and the Summoner as soon as she could…

And hopefully try to dissuade Julius from such a deadly mission.

 

* * *

 

Sometime after the above events, Lyon had awoken the next morning with a mildly sore back and equally worn out magic. Flying around had taken a greater toll on his strength than he imagined. He would have to practice more to better handle it. The two times he practiced in the training room wouldn’t cut it.

His mind had swiveled to the night before as he finished preparing for the day and headed for the dining hall. Last night was all sorts of surreal - the flight, the kiss ( _ kisses,  _ he reminded himself, there had indeed been multiple during the flight), even the walk back. Never in a million years would he believe he’d ever find a partner like the Summoner, much less anyone else. 

_ “Love you, Lyon.” _

His face turned scarlet from neck to face, and he wondered how his skin just hadn’t burned off from how hot it was. She really,  _ truly,  _ loved him. His heart was going to burst from hearing those words. The more he heard them, the more he felt his chest swell, and the more he wanted her to say them. Thank the gods that the Demon King couldn’t currently feel or hear any of his thoughts in his inactive state. He wouldn’t hear the end of it. 

“My, my, what’s got you so riled up?”

Lyon gasped at the random appearance of Joshua leaning against the wall, and he jumped at least a good five feet in the air. “Prince Joshua! Gods, don’t startle me like that! Where’d you even come from?”

Joshua blinked, head tilted. “Huh? I was sitting here the entire time,” he said with a chuckle. “You were the one staring off into space.”

Lyon tried desperately to swallow his blush as hard as he could, avoiding eye contact with the mercenary prince. This was beyond embarrassing. It would have been one thing being caught by Ephraim. Joshua on the other hand... “My apologies.”

He shrugged. “I don’t see why you’re apologizing to me for. You did nothing wrong as far as I’m concerned.” His red eye lit up a little, gazing at Lyon proper as the prince of Jehanna  straightened his position on the wall. “I heard about your good deed the other day. Didn’t think you had it in yourself to try and take on a bunch of assassins on your own, considering you bruise the wrong way if someone poked you. I don’t know any mage in their right mind that would do that.”

“U-um…” Was that a compliment for his win, or an insult to his constitution? Considering there were several mages in the Order that  _ could  _ manage a group of enemies with little problem (Kliff came to mind, he took nary a nick or scratch from most foes and Ishtar wiped away the competition before she could be attacked), Lyon was leaning towards the latter. He honestly couldn’t tell, considering Joshua generally sounded smooth or  blasé whenever he talked with little hint of his actual mood. He decided to roll with it. “T-thank you. I did what I thought was right at the time… even if my actions were incredibly reckless.”

“Hm. Seems like. Guess that coin toss really was in your favor. Maybe you’ve changed.”

Coin toss? Wait, had Joshua been watching his every move ever since the festival? Then… 

“No, I haven’t been stalking you,” Joshua answered as if knowing what his thoughts were. “I said I’d keep an eye on you, but I wouldn’t follow you or anything. Not my style. Just know I got my eyes peeled… and that you’re on my “decent-list”.”

“Oh.” That was unexpected. “T-thank you again, I’m grateful.”

“Don’t let it get to your head now. I see any of the behavior from the past, one ounce of a demon come through, and that’s game.”

Joshua walked away, disappearing as soon as he had appeared, leaving Lyon more than a little hurt. The gambler was always an odd one, but he always seemed to have a way to hit people where it hurt most without getting hurt himself. Him and Niles would be great companions, he imagined as he turned back towards the dining hall doors. 

As he entered, he smacked right into a wall of golden fluff. “Urrf…” he grunted. This wasn’t here before...

“H-huh?” The wall moved and faced towards him, revealing a fluffy, feathery dragon. Fae. “O-oh! Sorry!” the dragon apologized profusely, looking Lyon over. “I didn’t mean to hurt you! Are you okay?”

The urge to sneeze became incredibly strong the more Fae’s fluff came in contact with Lyon’s nose. He politely backed up, looking the dragon up and down. “I’m okay, thank you,” he replied, dusting some of the yellow down from his clothes. “What brings you here?”  _ ‘And in dragon form no less?’  _ he added as an afterthought.

“I was waiting for Zep-Zep to come back with food and eat outside! She wanted me to try some new treats!” Fae cheered. She tilted his head at him like a curious dog, taking gentle whiffs of his hair.  “Were you waiting for her too?”

Lyon’s eyes closed at the impeding breath on his face and hair, taking another step back. “Not necessarily, I just got here.”

“Fae! I’m back!”

Zephyr came back with several bowls of different dishes and a couple of drinks, all carried with Breidablik’s power, steam flowing heavily into the air. She hadn’t noticed Lyon yet. Fae bounced on her feet, wings extended and flapping. “Yay! Yay! Whatcha bring, whatcha bring?”

“Calm down, Fae, I brought plenty,” the Summoner said with a laugh. “There’s pastries, eggs, and oatmeal with some molasses on the side.”

“Ooh~! Tasty!” Fae turned to Lyon then. “Didja want some?”

“Hm?” Zephyr turned her gaze to the mage now, and her eyes widened in surprise, before her expression switched to something warmer. “Oh, hey! I didn’t see you there, Lyon! Sorry about that, did you just get here?”

“Y-yes.” Faintly, he could feel his heartbeat going off normal cadence. “I was just about to get breakfast.”

Zephyr shook her head. “No need to. There’s plenty for three people here. Heck, I may have gotten too much food, so the more the merrier. Why don’t you join us outside, Lyon? The weather’s nice~.”

“Yup!” Fae did a little hop, clapping her paws together. “We can have a picnic!”

“Picnic? U-um, sure…” Lyon responded slowly. This was a rather sudden request. The last time he had been on a picnic was at least a couple of years back. Had it been that long ago? “Are you sure you would have me? I hope I haven’t intruded on anything you have planned…”

“No way, Lyon, you’re always welcome!” Zephyr assured him with a radiant expression of joy. “Now, c’mon, let’s get moving before the food gets cold.”

“YAY!” 

Fae promptly grabbed both mage and Summoner in her stubby paws, and raced out the hall and down the corridors, startling (and nearly running over) more than a few guests. Lyon was holding on for dear life in Fae’s grip - it was a little loose - and  Zephyr yelped, trying to grab the yellow dragon’s attention, “Whoa, whoa, Fae, slow down a bit-!”

“But the food’ll get cold! That’s why we gotta go!”

“Do you even know where we’re going, Fae?”

“Uh…” Fae narrowed her eyes, sticking out her tongue as she thought long and hard about her answer.  “Uh-uh. But I know a super special awesome place we can go!”

Zephyr blinked, and couldn’t help but snort in laughter a few seconds later. Soon enough, Lyon followed suit with his own quiet, but hearty chuckles.

  
  


* * *

 

“So when you meant super special awesome place, you really meant it…”

Fae had taken the duo to a place that was tucked away in the woods surrounding the castle. It wasn’t outside the castle boundaries, as the castle was still nearby, but it was far enough that normal people wouldn’t have been able to find it. It was a little alcove, with a dry, sandy bottom, with a shallow river cutting between it and the rest of the forest. Above, the sun cut through the thick foliage and cast the emerald leaves in a prismatic light. The alcove was large enough for all the dishes to be laid out and still have room to lay around if they so choose.

“Yup, yup! It’s awesome!” Fae exclaimed, looking over the laid out dishes. “No one knows about this place except you, Nowi, Tiki, Myrrh, and… and…”

She tilted her head once more at Lyon. “Who are you again? You kinda look familiar...”

The Summoner sweatdropped. Of course, she didn’t remember him, not when she was having the fun of a lifetime (or several lifetimes, being a dragon and all). “This is Lyon,” Zephyr introduced. “You saw him at the Winter Festival last year, remember?” 

Something clicked in the young dragon’s mind then. “Oh! Oh! Oh, right, I remember! You’re that purple guy!” Bright green eyes fixed their expectant gaze on a rather amused Lyon. “Didja like the show, didja like it?”

“I did. Loved it actually,” Lyon replied honestly. “You and the others were excellent in your performance.”

(He left out the part where she absolutely scared him upon picking him up. She didn’t need to feel bad for his sake.)

“Thank you! Thank you!” Fae beamed, snuggling her (now untransformed) head into his chest. Her stomach rumbled, and she focused her attention on the food again. “Eating time! Eating time!”

_ ‘God, does she have infinite energy or what? She’s bouncing off the walls!’  _ Zephyr thought with a laugh, noticing how the mage was trying - and failing - to hold back the smallest of chuckles. “Alright, alright, little one. Let’s get to eating, eh? I’m hungry myself.”

Zephyr portioned out the food and gave each occupant their share. When Lyon took his portion, he noticed one of the pastries was his all-time favorite from the Winter Festival, the one Joshua had told him about by name (he immediately shut all thoughts about the prince out of his head then). “Doughnuts?”

“Yup! They ended up being such a hit at the festival that now it’s a regular menu item. Who would have thought?” Zephyr bit into the sticky treat, making a satisfied noise as she chowed down on it. “Oh, my goodness this is good! It’s almost like being back home again!”

Lyon bit into his doughnut, the icing melting in his mouth and through his fingers. His mind couldn’t help but linger on Zephyr’s words, even as he too was thoroughly enjoying his food. After taking a moment to swallow, he asked of her, “Do you miss home?”

Zephyr stopped mid-chew, eyes contemplative and contained a misty-eyed stare. Fae, in the midst of her stuffing her face full of doughnut and fruit, poked her nervously. “Zep-Zep?”

“I do miss home. I miss home a lot,” she whispered after several heartbeats. The sheer amount of vulnerability her tone set made Lyon’s heart crack. “The first few months of me being here were the worst. I don’t think Alfonse can tell you how many times I’ve broken down in tears within the first  _ week _ . Having to deal with the Heroes, as well as learn how to fight a  _ war _ … I wanted out as soon as I came.”

The Divine Dragon’s ears lowered. “Oh, no…” Fae whimpered, scooting over to hug Zephyr’s side. “I’m so sorry, Zep-Zep…”

“You don’t have to apologize, Fae,” said the Summoner, sniffing as tears threatened to come. “I should apologize for being so selfish. I had only been thinking about myself in those times, and I don’t think I’ve ever made up for it.”

She made a small sound when Lyon hugged her around the shoulders. “It isn’t selfish to think about wanting to go home,” he told her. “Gods know I want to go back, and I’m sure many of the other Heroes want to as well. It’s… it’s only you being you. Being  _ human _ .”

Zephyr sniffed some more, but seemed a less distressed. “Thank you. I don’t think I can fully get over that fact… but-”

“Excuse me, Summoner.”

Zephyr blinked away her tears to see Reinhardt and Ishtar of all people right outside the alcove. Her sadness switched to that of something more peculiar. “Ishtar? Reinhardt? How’d you get here?” she asked. 

“We take this route as part of a morning routine,” Reinhardt replied, much to Fae’s disappointment. “I was unaware others knew of this place.”

_ ‘So much for having a place that’s super secret,’  _ Zephyr mentally thought.

“I’m glad I found you, Summoner,” Ishtar said. Reinhardt hopped off his steed and guided Ishtar off with a helping hand. “And you as well, Lyon. I have urgent news that the both you need to hear.”

“Urgent news?” Lyon repeated. And it involved him too? He and Zephyr got up, expressions serious. 

“Yes.” Ishtar turned to her knight. “Watch the child. I’ll be back shortly.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Follow me, you two,” Ishtar said, walking off in the opposite direction of the alcove. Zephyr realized as she followed her she must have wanted somewhere more private to speak, away from a child’s ears. 

It was only a few more steps before they stopped at a clearing, and the Goddess of Thunder turned to them. “Good. We should be far enough away to speak. I don’t wish to bring anyone innocent into this more than necessary.”

“What is it, Ishtar? It sounds dire,” Zephyr stated with ill-hidden worry. 

“It’s a lot more dire than you know.” Ishtar’s face was grave. “It’s about Julius… and his plan for revenge."  
  



	13. The Second Coming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a nice break, but real life has been keeping me busy, so excuse any possible errors and such. I'll probably get chapter 14 done soonish if I'm not too tired, but I wanna take my time as well.
> 
> I hope you guys have been well in waiting. This one is a bit of an expositional dump. Next chapter's gonna be juicy.

 

* * *

 

Chapter 13

The Second Coming

“What?!”

Zephyr’s eyes were wide at this declaration, as were Lyon’s. “Revenge? Revenge for what? If you mean the arena incident, then why? That was months ago!”

“It seems that Julius and Loptous still haven’t taken their loss against Lyon well,” Ishtar confirmed. “Julius was talking to Loptous about it early this morning, and he mentioned something about the Demon King being unable to interfere.” She turned to Lyon this time and asked him, “Do you know what he means by this?”

The dark mage’s face was grim when he realized what she was talking about. “I think I do. I don’t know how Julius knows, but somehow he must have found out about the Demon King’s slumber. He hasn’t been active in the last few days, and he still hasn’t shown signs of awakening.” He shifted uncomfortably, feeling a hollow comfort in thumbing his huge tome. “Was he waiting for Fomortiis to drop his guard all this time?”

“I don’t think so. I believe he found out this morning and merely took advantage,” Ishtar replied. “But, as much as I loathe to say this, without the Demon King you are in terrible danger. I can sense Loptous’ power grow. I hadn’t taken the time to notice until today because Julius had been so calm as of late, and I thought perhaps Loptous had loosened his hold on him.” Her eyes narrowed with something akin to shame, a spark of lightning streaking up and down her arm. “I was wrong, so incredibly wrong.”

“This is worse than what I expected,” Zephyr said with a heavy frown. It was true with what Ishtar said; Julius had been rather at ease recently, downright approachable even - he was still a generic jerk, but it had toned down significantly after the incident. “I thought he had gotten over that fight, not seek out this kind of revenge.” She turned her focus to Lyon, the concern in her eyes making the prince wriggle. “But now thinking about it, why is Fomortiis asleep? I haven’t heard from him in some time, and he’s not one for going quiet this long. What’s going on with him, Lyon?”

“...” Lyon went silent as he thought about his answer. He never did tell her about what happened between himself and Ephraim that day, and was planning to deal with that issue personally. With this new development, however, he couldn’t afford to keep quiet any longer. “The Demon King took over my body and attacked Ephraim a few days ago. When I fought back and wrestled his control from him, his powers had become... misplaced. He sleeps now to recover them, so I’m not sure when he’ll wake..”

“He _what?_ ” Zephyr exclaimed, absolutely mortified. “Lyon, why didn’t you say something to me about this earlier? That’s serious, and it could have gotten you both killed!”

Lyon flinched from her words, taking an instinctive step back. “I didn’t want you to worry,” he replied quietly, looking away. “I was going to take care of it myself.”

“Lyon…” Zephyr sighed, knowing that yelling at him wouldn’t accomplish anything aside from making him feel even worse about himself, and that was the last thing she wanted, especially when there was something bigger and more dangerous at hand right under their noses. “Is… is Ephraim okay, at least? How badly injured was he in that attack?”

“Only lightly wounded, and that was only because of my intervention.” The prince shivered as if he were still in that event, still fighting to get out of that slumber induced state the Demon King had put him under so many times before. “And even then, I was barely able to escape the Demon King’s hold on me. If I hadn’t gotten there in time to stop him, it would have been so much worse…”

“I can only imagine.” Zephyr didn’t _want_ to imagine the possibility of a dead Hero on her hands, and she hadn’t been informed of it. It was scary, for lack of a better word. “We’re gonna have to deal with this later, but right now we got a devil dragon to put down… if we can.”

“I would suggest warning the princess and prince of this threat first before we do anything drastic,” Ishtar suggested. “Loptous is a cunning foe, and he knows what makes people tick. That fiend would use Julius as bait if it meant he could win, and that’s something I would like to avoid.”

“I would like to avoid _any_ conflict, but that’s wishful, if not naive, thinking,” Zephyr said. Her eyes lit up then, and she added worriedly, “Shoot, I should warn Deirdre too. In fact, just anyone with any relation to Julius needs to be told. Loptous isn’t a fan of Naga or any of the crusader weapons, and they might be at greater risk, despite the advantages they have over him. If he’s growing in strength as you say he has, there’s a chance that they can be overpowered.”

“I’ll have Reinhardt take care of that errand personally,” assured leader of Friege. “You just focus on warning Prince Alfonse and Princess Sharena. Lyon.”

Lyon shifted on the spot to face Ishtar. “You need to stay as low as possible until we can find a way to stop Loptous. More than likely he will try to find you. Do not engage him if he catches you. Your power is great, but against the sheer might of the dark dragon himself, you would stand little chance and can be killed.”

  
Lyon gave a knowing nod. “I understand.” The prince knew she was right. If what the Demon King said about Julius holding Loptous’ abilities back was correct, he wouldn’t stand a chance against a Loptous going full force. He barely managed to fight back when he _was_ pulling his punches, and he needed the Demon King to save him. To make things worse, the wards placed on him to keep Loptous at bay had faded once the demon had taken to sleep.

He took a glance at Zephyr’s neck, where the Demon King’s seal had been placed. To his surprise, that had remained, as faint as its power was. Even if it was weakened, it should still grant her some protection if Loptous threatened her.

“What will you do, Ishtar?” Zephyr asked when Ishtar began to make her way back to where Reinhardt and Fae were.

“I will try to personally stop Julius on my own, talk to him about Loptous. If it comes down to a conflict, I will be the first to weather the storm.”

“What?” Zephyr was taken aback. “Ishtar, you’ll-”

“I will be fine, Zephyr,” Ishtar interrupted firmly, lilac eyes piercing. “Mjolnir is a powerful tome, powerful enough to counter whatever Loptous may throw at me. It will not be an easy fight by any means - Loptous is a god, after all. I wouldn’t consider the option if I knew I weren’t able to face him properly.”

“...all right. I trust you then,” the Summoner reluctantly relented. She knew how confident Ishtar was in her abilities - she wasn’t one of the strongest mages in the Order for nothing, rivaled by few. But confidence and pure reliance on power alone didn’t win fights, and that was what Zephyr feared that that was what Ishtar was going for. “Just don’t do anything rash that’ll get you killed. I want a good resolution to this that doesn’t involve anyone’s death.”

“Believe me, I do too.” There was something solemn in her tone as the trio made their way back to the alcove. “I wish to not make the same mistakes of my world a reality again.”

When they returned, Fae was sleeping on a rather amused Reinhardt’s lap, having eaten her fill, the knight rubbing a gentle hand through her hair. His amusement turned into a quick frown when he saw the queen’s serious expression. “My lady?”

“Prepare to return to the castle,” Ishtar ordered. “Time is of the essence.”

“Yes, ma’am,” was Reinhardt’s readied response. He set Fae down from his lap, then proceeded to mount the horse, lending Ishtar a helping hand up.

“You two be careful, all right?” Zephyr said.

“We will. Godspeed to you, Zephyr. And to you as well, Lyon,” Ishtar responded with a nod. With a snap of the reins, Reinhardt dashed off through the woods. Zephyr let out a breath, slumping against the alcove wall, and sitting cross-legged on the floor.  Lyon took his place next to her, a somber look in his features as he hooked an arm around her middle.

“This… this doesn’t make sense. Something doesn’t add up,” she murmured uneasily.  “If he wanted to fight you, he could have done so after he had healed. It’s been months since then, and he should be at full power already. The way he’s charging up power, more power than what’s necessary even for him… it’s like he’s got an ulterior motive. Why else would he wait this long to challenge you, unless he really wanted to blow you out of orbit?”

“The Demon King admitted that Loptous was equal to him in strength,” Lyon said, “but Julius holds him back. Even if he wanted to come at me with everything he had, Julius would still be able to keep him down to a degree. I’d imagine Julius knows the potential danger of letting power that volatile run loose.”

 _‘The potential danger of letting power that volatile run loose...’_ Zephyr repeated the phrase mentally. Something about that phrase struck her with a feeling she couldn’t quite pinpoint. _‘The potential danger-”_

Something clicked, and it filled her stomach with a frothing dread. Somehow, the prince of Grado sensed this, his own hand quivering.

“Lyon… I think that power isn’t targeted just for you,” Zephyr said quietly, carefully, like the words could physically harm. “I think it’s meant for Julius as well. With Julius keeping him in check, he can’t fight at full power. But there must be a limit to what Julius can rein in. This buildup of energy… if it gets to be too much, if the power overflows, Julius can’t stop Loptous. And if he can’t stop him, Loptous has free reign to do what he wants, and he can probably take permanent control of his host… or worse, he’ll just off his host all together and reap the benefits of a free shell to settle in.”

Lyon took a sharp inhale, his quivering intensifying. He knew that scenario too well. The Demon King eating his soul away piece by piece, like one would savor a delectable sweet, until he was nothing more than a lifeless husk. Only when the Demon King left his body did he realize a shred of his spirit had been spared, but by then it was too late.

If this was the same scene truly playing out…

“If this is true, then we have to go and warn Sharena and Alfonse immediately,” Lyon stated urgently. “We cannot have Loptous get his way. If he succeeds, everyone in the Order will be at risk. _Everyone._ ”

The underlying fear that plagued Lyon’s eyes and tone told Zephyr everything, if his quivering didn’t already. It didn’t take a genius to figure out Lyon wouldn’t want what happened to him to happen again with an equally, if not more, dangerous enemy. “Right. I’ll tell them though. You have to stay hidden away for your safety.”

She stood up shakily, stretching her stiff knees before summoning a portal back to the castle. “One more thing. Before I forget, Lyon.”  
  
“Hm? Yes, Zephyr?” Lyon answered, carefully lifting the still sleeping Fae in his arms.

“No more secrets.” She gave him a sideways glance, one that was filled with a hurt Lyon felt  physically. “With all this coming down, and Fomortiis attacking Ephraim, I can’t afford to _not_ know anything going on in the Order. Please, Lyon. You got to tell me these things, even if you want to handle things on your own. I’m held accountable for scenarios like these. The Order holds me up on a high standard, and I can’t lose that type of trust in my people… you included.”

“O-of course. My sincerest apologies. I never intended for any harm, I just...” Lyon trailed off, almost in a whisper, refusing to even look at the Summoner. That hurt in her eyes was palpable. He hadn’t meant to betray her trust like that. He _never_ meant to betray her trust. He just wanted to keep her safe and deal with the problem on his own.

A finger wiped away a tear from his cheek, and Lyon blinked. He hadn’t realized he was crying. Zephyr was there, the hurt in her eyes replaced with a knowing comfort. “Don’t cry, Lyon. I’m not angry with you… just scared. The thought of losing either of you in that situation is terrifying. I’m telling you all of this for your own good, so you can be safe here… and because I love you. I don’t wanna lose you.”

A shaky breath left Lyon’s lips. “I...I don’t want to lose you either.”

“I know. Now, c’mon. We got an Order to protect.”

The trio left through the portal, the portal closing with a satisfying pop.

...only to then be reopened a second later. “Ah, crap, I forgot to bring the food back, Lyon, hold on,” Zephyr said with an exasperated groan, lifting the food with Breidablik’s power.

The portal closed for good this time.

 

* * *

 

**“Deirdre.”**

“Hm?”

The guardian of the forest looked up from her work - she was doing some basic stitching on Sigurd’s outfit - and saw her tome glowing faintly on the nightstand. She laid her needle and work in her lap, reaching over and grabbing the book, where it glowed brighter in her grasp. “What is it, Naga?”

It wasn’t often that the tome spoke to her. She would hear Naga’s faint murmurs in battle, but most of them were just a part of the incantations that Deirdre used. To here the Divine Dragon actually speak to her was unusual… and unnerving.

 **“It concerns Loptous, I’m afraid,”** Naga explained gravely. **“I sense a disturbance in him, a great disturbance. He is charging power and storing it at an alarming rate. His growth is approaching a critical threshold that I am unsure Julius is aware of.”**

“What?” Deirdre quietly exclaimed, at full attention now. She had thought her son had been relinquished from the Earth Dragon’s hold long ago, when Seliph and Julia slain him. “But why?”

**“I know not of his purpose or who would incur his wrath in such a way he would take such measures, but I do know this: it is a dangerous situation, a deadly situation, for every party involved, Loptous’ host included. We must warn the other crusaders and prepare for the storm that is to come.”**

Deirdre’s calm mien was incredibly shaken, and she absently looked to the clothes she had been stitching. Sigurd… had all of that fighting been in vain? For the past to come back to haunt them?

“Very well, Naga. But will our power alone be enough?” Deirdre asked questionably. “If Loptous is growing a tremendous amount of power… will we be able to stop him? Will… will we be able to save Julius…?”

**“....that, at this point in time, is uncertain. Even with our advantage, Loptous may prove to be an overwhelming force. We will need the others… and the Summoner as well. I will begin storing my own power if and when things go south.”**

That answer did nothing to bring Deirdre’s worry down; if anything, it only brought it up. If Naga herself was doubting the possibility of winning on her own…

A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts. “Deirdre?” a voice called from outside.

“Sigurd? I’m coming, dear.” She folded her work neatly and set it on the chair as she stood, then opened the door to reveal not just Sigurd, but Reinhardt as well. Even Arvis was there. “Oh, my!” she gasped. “Sir Reinhardt? And Arvis too?”

“Greetings, Lady Deirdre,” Reinhardt said with a polite bow. “I wish we could come to you in more… favorable circumstances.”

Sigurd took this chance to speak up, his face taut with dread. “Deirdre, we need to talk. All of us. It’s about Julius.”

 

* * *

 

_“Hm… hrrrgh… hrr…”_

Fomortiis was stirring in his listless slumber, what was once a peaceful time to rest was now being disturbed by some outside force. He ground his teeth, trying to force the feeling away so he could sleep more. Growing… growing… growing ever more powerful. It was intruding, it was powerful, it was-

A flash of reptilian eyes was all that was needed to fully rouse the Demon King from his torpor with a start. When he saw nothing, he still did not lower his guard. He knew those eyes. Those were the same eyes that faced him in the arena all those months ago.

 _Loptous… he’s on the move,_ the Demon King thought. He slowly unfurled himself from his sleeping position, metaphysical limbs stiff from being still for so long. His wings lifted, lazily flapping and stirring up a small draft of air. Much better...

Of course, this awakening did not go unnoticed by his host. A wave of fear and shock washed through his psyche, and Fomortiis couldn’t help but chuckle. Ever the worrywart, Lyon. _“No need to fear, child. It is I.”_

“Demon King? What are you doing up?” came the hesitant question. “Are your powers healed?”

The Demon King yawned a great yawn, a yawn that exposed his ancient maw and reverberated through Lyon’s mind with a vibrating grumble as he snapped his mouth shut. _“Healed? They were never damaged, just misplaced. They are almost back to normal. I_ was _, however, awoken by a disturbance,”_ was his sleepy reply. _“I believe it was Loptous, I think? Damn lizard needs to learn how to keep silent for once.”_

He stretched his limbs now, and Lyon flinched upon hearing those old bones crack like trees snapping in two. _“Hm… oh, my, who knew the secret to better rest was not a centuries old hibernation, but a power nap? I haven’t felt this energized in several millennia~! I feel like I could conquer Magvel with my magic sealed and my hands tied!”_

“...I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that,” Lyon deadpanned.

_“Ah, but you know I jest, child. Magvel is too much country for one emperor after all.”_

“Enough, Demon King. Get to the point. You mentioned Loptous waking you up. That means his power is growing even more-”

_“I know this already.”_

“What?” That stopped Lyon dead in his tracks.  “How?! You were sleeping this entire time! You couldn’t know the situation! And why didn’t you say anything?”

_“I’ve been watching him since the arena battle. You think I’d just let my foes remain out of my sight? You always keep your enemies closer, child, always knowing where they’re going, what they’re doing. You never let an eye off of them. Otherwise, you’ll be caught unawares like you are now.”_

Another beat of his wings sent a chill through Lyon. _“I said nothing about it because I had to focus on letting you recover and train - I wanted you prepared, not worried sick over something that could or couldn’t be until I was sure. I was almost paranoid that Loptous was growing like this,  and thought it as nothing more than illusion. But when the little increments became bigger, I knew then it was no hoax. He was out for revenge… for blood.”_

“But still-”

 _“But still nothing,”_ the Demon King interrupted. _“My methods might seem unorthodox at times, but this demon has a few tricks up his sleeve. Trust me. I won’t let that filthy reptile lay a finger on you.”_

Lyon wasn’t buying it. “I rather trust my life to Valter than to you.”

 _“Hmph. Is this how you treat someone who’s saved you, saved your_ love _from potential death? Honestly, you should be more grateful for my help.”_

“...”

_“I hear nothing, child.”_

His taunt was met with a shimmer of hostility and Fomortiis cackled. _“No need to be angry about a correct point, child. Simmer down.”_

  
His laughter died down, and his next words more serious. _“In all seriousness of the situation, I will need to go back to my state of torpor once more. My powers have almost  been sorted, and I will need rest to recover them… and to stay out of Loptous’ eye. Since I have just awoken, he shouldn’t be able to detect me - it takes time for my magic to… ‘power on’ as the_ _Summoner would say. But I don’t want to take the risk of staying awake. I need to stay low… as do you. You will not have access to my power until I’m ready, so don’t do anything stupid like jumping into a group of enemies.”_

“...wait a minute, what-”

 _“You heard me, child. Now, get to your room and stop lurking. Get some rest.”_ He paused, then added, _“And don’t worry for the Summoner so much. She isn’t as helpless as she seems.”_

The Demon King disappeared once again, leaving a confused and bewildered prince behind. The Demon King knew of this threat, still didn’t inform _anyone_ of the situation, and he’s supposed to take this lying down? Was the Demon King out of his mind? Loptous could attack now, and they would all be in danger.

As Lyon entered his room, leaning against the wall, his mind a jumble of thoughts and mixed feelings, he just silently prayed that Zephyr could find a way to fix this.

* * *

 

**“Hm?”**

“What is it, Loptous?” Julius quietly asked of the dragon, mildly annoyed - he was trying to get some extra sleep from the hours he missed being awakened earlier that day. And quite frankly, Loptous was being quite the pest. His head rang with an insurmountable headache, something he was going to need a healer for. What was that lizard doing?

**“I thought I felt something is all.”**

Julius tensed. “Was it the demon?”

 **“I actually thought it was my brethren, Naga,"**  Loptous said a faint tenseness of his own. **"** **But** **it was nothing more than a blip. Nothing to worry about.”**

Julius groaned. “Wake me up when something important actually comes up, stinking lizard. Let me get some sleep. And keep it down! You’re incredibly loud.”

 **“My apologies,”** was Loptous’ dry response. He could care less about what his host thought about him. He had to focus on his duties: to defeat that annoying demon and his equally annoying brat of a prince. He had better things to do, bigger goals to accomplish, than to focus on this dimwit.

Especially since Lyon was too close to the Summoner.

And speaking of things getting in the way...

A knock on the door interrupted his inner workings. “Julius? I’m coming in.”

 **“Damn. It’s that woman,”** Loptous spat. She was the last person he needed in his way. And he couldn’t kill her - killing her would be problematic for both his host and for everyone else that could discover the body. Too much trouble for one person. And in order for him to achieve his goals, needed certain people out of the picture. Ishtar first, then Naga.

But perhaps he need not kill her. Perhaps she didn’t even know of his and Julius’ plans. She couldn’t have, she was asleep when that conversation happened. She was probably concerned over her fiance as usual.

Ishtar made herself known as she walked in, shutting the door behind her carefully, seeing her fiancee resting in bed. She sat on the edge, a solemn look on her face. “Julius, I want to talk,” she said, tapping him gently on the shoulder. “About Loptous and his grab for revenge. You truly don’t believe that, do you? Do you truly want this?”  
  
The dragon balked. How in the name of Naga did she know? She was asleep! Unless she had been faking it the entire time… or somehow Reinhardt figured it out. He didn’t know. That stupid knight always found out what was happening.

He was certain of one thing though. Ishtar was an unneeded variable.

Time to take matters in his own hands.

“I know that battle was a while ago, Julius, and how upset you may have been… but you have to understand that this kind of revenge that you seek… it is of the dangerous kind. Do not let Loptous steer you down the path of destruction again. You know what happened the last time. And I won’t allow you to do something you’ll regret.”

**“On the contrary, my dear.”**

Ishtar immediately went on guard as ‘Julius’ sat up, his eyes a little more… menacing. Lightning raced through her arms as he spoke haughtily, **“I would rather** you **not do something you’ll regret. It would be such a tragic waste of flesh trying to stop your fiance bent by my will.”**

Her hands surged with power now, glaring daggers at him. She knew that wasn't Julius, that was-! “You release Julius this instant, you dastardly devil!” Ishtar yelled. "Or else I won't hesitate to beat you down where you stand!"

Loptous merely laughed off her threat as if she were a rabbit facing up to a hawk. He snatched her wrist up, not minding the sparks. **“Now,** **now, why don’t you be a dear, and sleep for awhile, alright?”**

A stream of magic zapped through Ishtar’s body, and she went limp his grasp. Loptous chuckled, laying her on the bed as if she had never even tried to attack him.

Good. She would be quiet for a very long time. But for now...

**“Sleep well, my dear. I got plans.”**


	14. Dragon vs Dragon! The Storm Begins!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loptous begins making moves in Askr... and the first is against another deity. How will the two prevail?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back at it again with another chapter, this time in an epic battle sequence of events! This one is merely the intro to Loptous 2.0, while the rest will be the big battles up ahead. I want those to be particularly awesome to the best of their ability, and so I'll say right now that I will take a little while longer to write them so it'll be something you guys can enjoy, and something I'll enjoy (not that I haven't been enjoying writing these chapters, but I want to make them super special awesome :D ).
> 
> Without further, let's get ready to rumble!
> 
> EDIT 1: Made some changes to the chapter, added some things and took out others that didn't seem quite right.

* * *

 

Chapter 14

 

Dragon vs Dragon! The Storm Begins!

 

* * *

 

“Uncle Duma!! Uncle Duma!!”

Duma let out an internal sigh as he heard the telltale _pitter-patter_ of tiny feet racing through the hallway. Ever since he arrived in Askr, the young dragons would call him by that name. He, the God of Strength, the creator of Rigel, and one whose strength was unparalleled to anyone but the Falchion, was being referred to as a family figure. Never in all the millennia in the world would he _ever_ see this happen. They weren’t even related to him, and yet they sought him out for whatever problem they had as if he were their uncle figure.

However, as much as the title befuddled him, he’d learned to accept it. And he tolerated them, so long as they didn’t mess with him too much. He wasn’t sure if should have been more confused or more appreciative, but a part of him found it amusing to think they respected to him such a degree.

“What is it?” Duma asked as the quartet of dragons arrived. He noted their fearful eyes, their heavy breathing, like they had been running from some horrible fiend.

“Uncle Duma… th-there’s… there’s a big monster!” Fae cried, positively about to cry. “A scary monster! He almost ate us!”

“A monster?” Duma echoed with a tilt of his head. This wasn’t news; they’d always come to him about some new monster stalking about at night or scaring them in the middle of their play. He figured they got scared of something else trivial this time around that they’d want him to ‘slay’. “Pray tell, were they those of the shadows again?”

“N-no, it’s a different one,” Nowi refuted with wilted ears. “H-he saw us playing around and got really mad at us for some reason… and he said if we didn’t run, he’d turn us into wyvern food!”

“Wyvern food?” The God of Strength ran a hand through his green locks. He could think of one mortal who would make such claims to people like them. “I presume it was Valter? His disposition is extremely… distasteful, and to threaten children is most ignorant. I will go and-”

“N-no, Uncle Duma! Listen!” Tiki shouted now, furiously shaking her head. “This was a dragon! A dragon said this!”

“What?”

 _That_ stopped Duma in his tracks, his crimson eyes subtly widening a fraction of an inch. There weren’t many dragons in the Order; in fact, the _only_ dragons in the Order were himself and the four dragon girls before him. When did another dragon join the ranks? And one that would threaten them of all people? His suspicions present, but his curiosity piqued, he knelt down to their level. “You have my attention. I’m listening. What did this dragon look like?” he asked.

All at once they started to talk:

“He’s huge and has black wings!”

“He’s as big as your head when you transform!”

“...Red eyes and claws as big as us!”

“He’s in some red-haired guy’s body, but still feels like a dragon-”

“ _Enough,_ ” Duma barked sternly, silencing the dragons instantly. His mind processed all of the information given, but something wasn’t quite adding up. A red-haired male with such menacing dragon features… but the dragon itself was in the male’s body. Perhaps they had sensed the presence of his full power? They talked as if the dragon was a separate being from the body, which ruled out any kind of manakete he’s ever met.

Suddenly the magenta-haired Divine Dragon pointed at something behind Duma. “There he is! Behind you! Behind you, Uncle Duma!” Fae yelled.

Duma looked over his shoulder to see a red-haired figure standing a few feet away from them. He blinked twice, staring at him for several seconds to completely take in this newcomer, before he stood up to his full height. “Is this the one?” he asked of the other manaketes.

“Y-yeah! Yeah!” Nowi said with a furious nod. “That’s him! That’s him! And he’s super scary!”

“Hm…” Duma’s face was its usual stony expression, but it contained a silent sense of… of foreboding? No, not foreboding. He never felt fear. He was the God of Strength, for the love of Naga. _Falchion_ didn’t make him feel anything like this, and that was his biggest weakness. But whatever this was that this mortal before him was exuding… it was akin to being weighed down by gravity. Like a surge of pressure bearing down on him.

The pressure of the presence of a dragon.

Of a _god._

His stance shifted minutely to something more taut, a predator ready to strike at his rival should he come too close. “Who are you, mortal? And what business do you have with these dragons?”

 **“Ah, Duma. What a surprise. I wasn’t expecting the first person I would practice this newfound power on would be you,”** the figure jeered. His eyes flickered to see the cowering dragons behind the ruler of Rigel, and a fanged grin met his lips. **“I see those twerps were quick to come scrambling to your aid, haha. Typical.”**

“What did you want with them?” Duma asked again, a cold bite to his tone. “I doubt they have anything worth taking. And how do you know who I am?” He measured this newcomer’s stance, gauged his strength. Scrawny as his form was, Duma knew not to judge by appearance alone. Appearances served as distractions that hid away the true potential of an individual. And he could tell that the kid was hiding more than he was letting on.

 **“Oh, them? They were just a nuisance is all,”** the figure remarked offhandedly. **“Personally, I prefer them dead and gone if I had my way, but I have better plans than making them into actual wyvern food, funny as the idea is. I’ll probably get to that later.”**

Now if   _that_ didn’t confirm this mortal was the so-called “monster”, he didn’t know what did. Before Duma could respond, the figure continued, **“I am Loptous, a dragon like you. Dragons can sense other dragons, you know, and that’s I’ve come to meet you.  It matters not. You will fight me today, and I will see to it that you are dethroned from your title.”**

Duma glowered at the blatant show of impertinence, flexing a clawed hand. He didn’t know who this kid was or how he obtained such power, but he would not tolerate such disrespect. “You have quite the nerve to seek me as a challenge, mortal,” he voiced with disdain. “Who do you think you are?”

 **“Who do you think I am?”** The figure bowed mockingly. **“I too am a god, you know. I find it funny you thought me mortal due to my host’s appearance. I apologize in advance, he’s not the fittest of the bunch, but that’ll change soon. However, if you don’t mind, I will be throwing you around so I can amuse myself before finding the others. You will allow that, will you?”**

“Hmph. That arrogance will get you nowhere.” Duma’s aura flared to life, whipping about his huge frame. “I will accept your challenge, if only to teach you a lesson in picking your opponents.”

 **“Ooh, I’m giddy~.”** Loptous’ own aura flared into existence, and the dragons behind Duma cowered further behind their savior. **“Come at me with everything you have, Duma!”**

In an instant, there was a blur of motion: both dragons disappeared in the blink of an eye, flitting back and forth through the corridor in rapid bursts of speed, their forms barely visible. Such was the ferocity of their attacks, but neither could really land a blow, or at least a strike that could turn the tide. A missed uppercut here, a whiffing claw swipe there. The occasional growl of frustration coming from Duma was prominent throughout, and, from what little could be seen, Loptous was enjoying every minute spent on his missed opportunities, even while missing his own. Nevertheless, they seemed equally matched.

Not even the watching young dragons could keep up with their near teleport-like movements, eyes flickering this way and that. They were rooted to the spot, such was their awe and fear. Duma was an opponent not to be trifled with, and they knew (and he knew) he was the strongest dragon here. He was only sent out as last resort in battle when there was no other option, or when Zephyr needed a tank that could dish out the fight _and_ take it, as was the enormity of his power.

But they never seen anything like this newcomer. He was brimming with power - so much it was leaking out of him with every movement, dark wisps trailing behind him like wraiths. It was almost otherworldly. Dangerous.

This contest of speed went on for a few more minutes until the next moment came in a shockwave that nearly blew the audience away. Loptous landed a sharp kick to Duma’s chin, sending him flying into the wall. The impact had enough force to lodge spider-like cracks in it, with the God of Strength smack in the center. He coughed, dazed and winded, his scarlet eyes unfocused.

A collective gasp came from the watchers. “Uncle Duma!”

“I am fine. Do not worry for me.” He grunted, pushing himself out of the wall, pieces of it crumbling. He wiped his bloodied mouth with the back of his hand, looking at it spitefully. Tch.

 **“Oh, did that hurt?”** Loptous taunted, the sneer in his eyes toxic. He sported no wounds on himself, save for a few torn spots on his garb, and looked no worse for wear in terms of stamina. **“I was going easy on you too. Who knew the God of Strength could bleed so easily? So much for being a god-”**

Loptous’ next words were cut off with a knee to the chest, followed by a backhand to the cheek, making the Earth Dragon reel away, positively stunned. Duma, seeing an opportunity, rushed in with his own kick square to his jaw. Loptous went spiralling to the ground with a shout, crashing in a sea of dust and rubble.

“Enough talk. Words do not make the warrior, only their fists,” Duma said as he landed.

“You tell him, Uncle Duma!” cheered Tiki.

“Yeah, yeah, wallop that meanie!” Fae added with a determined hop. “Wallop ‘em good!”

Duma closed his eyes for a brief moment, an amused smile threatening to show on his stoic face. Their cheering meant little to him, but a part of him felt rather warm from the support. “Save your applause for after the fight, children. The battle is not yet won.” He focused his attention back to the spot where Loptous fell and called, “Loptous. Have you decided to stay your hand and surrender?”

His answer came in the form of a crimson laser zooming for his face, Duma barely having time to react and countered the beam with his own, a dazzling blast of light resulting from the collision. Covering his eyes, a flurry of blows met the distracted god, and he was forced to take the beating, unable to move. Claws sliced his arms and abdomen, his armor marred with scratches.

 **“How dare you taunt a god, good for nothing snake?!”** Loptous shrieked. Grabbing Duma’s leg - a considerable feat which left Duma both shocked and unprepared - , he spun around and slammed his foe back and forth on the ground, leaving craters into the earth. **“You know not of true strength!”**

“Uncle Duma!” the dragons shouted in terror. Never before had they seen their savior thrown around so easily like he was some child’s toy.

He threw him down a final time, dragging him by the ankle now, and flung him away like a wet towel. Duma tumbled head over heels, and slammed to a stop against the corner of the corridor. Blood leaked from his head, and his back was all out of sorts. “Rrrgh… what a mighty force…” Duma commented He underestimated his strength...

Loptous stood in front of him, an ugly smirk adorning his face. He pointed a finger towards Duma’s chest, an evil red light sparking at the tip. **“And now, you die for your insolence. Sayonara, you so called God of Strength!”**

That was when the sudden buzzing sound of lightning and light crossed his path, and the pained grunt of Loptous toppling on the ground met Duma’s ears. He slowly turned his head around to see all four dragons transformed, poised to strike. Smoke was rolling from Nowi and Fae’s jaws.

“Stay clear of this fight!” Duma shouted, gritting his teeth against the pain in his ribs. Thank himself he had fast healing, but it wasn’t fast enough in this instance. “This battle is not meant for you!”

“We won’t sit back while you get hurt!” Nowi argued. “We’re strong! We won’t let him win!”

“We’ll protect you!” Myrrh promised with a gnashing of teeth. “I swear it!”

“GRRRR!” Fae roared as menacingly as a fluffy dragon could.

Loptous stood on shaky feet, spitting blood. His scarlet eyes were blazing red trails that flared into the air. **“The audacity of you lot… I’ll have to put you little dragons in your place!”**

“No way, you big bully!” Tiki shouted, stepping in front of the others. “Take this!”

Out came her Breath of Fog, smothering Loptous in anti-dragon mist. He coughed, dropping to a knee as the potent effects started to overcome him. Not even a god could stand the wrath of anti-dragon dragon breath. **“Urrgh…”**

“Yes! It’s working, Tiki!” Nowi cheered.

“Let’s help her!” Myrrh said to the others. “If we all fire at him at once, he’ll go down!”

With that plan in mind, the three other dragons let loose with their own breath attacks, lightning, light, and flame making up the rest of the barrage in fantastic fashion. Duma couldn’t believe the strength they had. They were huddling behind him just moments ago… now, even knowing that this opponent is much stronger than they were, they fought for his behalf.

He felt something akin to a bright sense of pride in that moment, and he couldn’t help letting the tiniest smile show. They were growing up.

The barrage stopped after a few minutes, the attacking dragons panting with effort. There was no movement from Loptous, and for several heartbeats all was still. Fae whispered to her companions, “Did we… did we do it?”

“Dunno, Fae,” Nowi replied uncertainly, violet eyes scanning the smoke. “I can’t see anything, it’s too thick. Maybe…?”

Their hopes were dispelled when a wheezy voice came from the fog:

**“You know… ack… that might have hurt a lot more… if you had a little more strength in you… and more control.”**

Loptous came out of the smoke cloud with little fanfare, save for an insistent cough. He waved off the rest of the miasma, dispelling it away in seconds. **“Granted… agh, curse this fog!”** He paused again to cough harshly before speaking, **“My lungs are burning and my skin wants to burst into flame, and quite frankly I’m pissed off at all of what’s happened. This was supposed to be a thrashing. I wasn’t expecting this much resistance. And now, someone’s got to pay.”**

A wave of his hand saw a shockwave of energy sending the dragons flying and casting them out of dragon form. **“And for dragons your age, I’m surprised you’re so easy to knock around.  You should be much stronger. This world must be holding your potential back. Oh, well. I’ll be rid of this world anyway, once I got ahold of that sweet, sweet, toy of Zephyr’s…”**

“Toy…?” Duma echoed as he stood on shaky legs, initially not understanding Loptous’ words… and then it clicked. “No.”

 **“Oh, yes indeed, dear Duma!”** Loptous said excitedly. **“Oh, yes indeed. I can’t wait to get my hands on it. Which reminds me…”**

Light generated in his hands, one aimed at Duma, the other at the downed manaketes. **“I was going to let you live, but I see no reason now that you know of my intentions. Can’t have you telling, now can I?”**

As he was about to fire the beams, Duma launched his own attack, a spherical net-like blast that entrapped the Earth Dragon. The beams reflected back to Loptous, and a roar could be heard from the inside of the sphere trap as the beams hit their unintended mark.

**“DUMA!”**

Duma ignored him, choosing instead to make his way over and check on the injured manaketes. Looking one by one, he noted their injuries weren’t major. If anything the shockwave dealt to them was a glancing blow. They were a lot more resilient than he gave them credit for. Had they been in human form, the attack would have been much more severe.

“Are any of you able to stand?” he asked of them, keeping an eye on Loptous, the Earth Dragon desperately trying to break out of his prison. Duma didn’t know how long that would last, and he didn’t want to stick around to find out.

“I can… kinda…” Nowi murmured weakly, bracing against Duma as she stood. “Ouchy… that attack hurt...”

“Hm… come around and hold onto me. We will depart now. The Summoner is in grave danger as we speak,” Duma ordered. “We must go and warn her.”

As the weakened manaketes gathered, Duma took in a deep breath, and surrounded them all in a godly light, disappearing in the next instant, leaving an irate Loptous behind.

But not before seeing the visage of a menacing dragon along the walls, just as the manaketes had described....

 

* * *

 

Meanwhile, in the conference room…

“...And that’s the gist of it.”

To say the commander and Askran royals were horrified of the news Zephyr had given them would be an understatement. They were thoroughly ruffled, though of course Alfonse looked more grim than either his sister or Anna. “This is dire news indeed, Zephyr,” he said, his grip on the arm of his chair tight. “How couldn’t we have seen this sooner?”

“That’s what I’m asking myself, Alfonse,” Zephyr said with a heavy sigh. Retelling it didn’t make the feeling of utter shame any better. If anything, it only served to make her feel worse about the whole situation. “If I had known so much sooner… this could have been avoided entirely. I failed you guys…”

“Don’t blame yourself, Zephyr,” Sharena said, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. No matter what, Zephyr could always count on Sharena to be there as support, and she let a thin smile appear. “You couldn’t have known something like this would have happened, especially if Loptous had been keeping it under wraps for this long.”

“You’re right… but still, I can’t help but think this could have been outright avoided.” Zephyr’s grip on Breidablik’s handle was furiously tight. “If only I had stopped that match like I should have… maybe this didn’t have to happen.”

“Maybe… but we don’t know that for certain,” chimed in Anna now with a frown of her own. “And at this time we can’t afford to be thinking of ways of fixing the past. With this coming down, we have to neutralize this threat to the Order as quickly as possible.”

Alfonse nodded. “Last I checked, the only things that can take down Loptous were dragon-slaying weapons, the holy weapons of the crusaders… and Naga herself. But the only one with Naga here is Deirdre.”

“Didn’t… Julia and Seliph slay Loptous initially?” Sharena questioned. “I don’t know much about the Holy War World, but their combined might alone was enough to take him without trouble.”

“Yes… but if Loptous has gathered this much strength, strength that we could face the possibility of seeing Naga and the crusaders overpowered, we’ll need more than just the power of legendary weapons,” Anna stated matter-of-factly. “We need a plan.”

Three pairs of eyes faced Zephyr expectantly. The Summoner sighed, breathing calmly - as she could - through her nose. How did you plan for an enemy that was within your ranks? “I don’t want to do anything drastic yet, not until I hear back from Ishtar.”

“Why wait for Ishtar?” Sharena asked.

“She said she was going to talk some sense into Julius, or at least attempt to.” Zephyr fidgeted uncomfortably in her seat, her fingers thrumming rapidly on the handle of the summoning gun. “I haven’t heard from her in a while, and I don’t hear any signs of commotion. I hope she’s okay. Ishtar is a powerful opponent, but against a god…”

She shook her head, standing up. No. This would not do.

“I’ll go look,” the Summoner declared. “She said herself she would be the first line of defense against Loptous. If we haven’t heard anything by this point we can only assume either she’s still talking to him… or Ishtar failed. I got to get over there.”

“It’s too dangerous, Zephyr,” Alfonse disagreed, reaching to stop her, but she stepped out of reach.  
  
“I have my wit and Breidablik on hand, Alfonse,” Zephyr said, her tone measured with a finality the Askran royal only rarely heard. “I gotta go. If you don’t hear from me within the next ten minutes don’t come for me. Focus your efforts on defending the castle, and prepare for the worst case scenarios. Reinhardt should be with the crusaders at this point. He’s not too hard to find. And whatever you do, keep Lyon out of this. Loptous may have an alternative motive, but beating Lyon is definitely on his to-do list.”

Alfonse looked ready to argue, but the sheer look of authority radiating from Zephyr’s eyes made any argument moot. “...yes, Summoner. You have my word.”

“And you have mine as well,” Sharena said seriously.

Anna sighed, putting a gloved hand to her head. “Y’know, as commander, I gotta stop you from making decisions that can get you killed… but I trust you on this.” She smiled. “Good luck.”

“And to you as well, everyone.” She closed her eyes, remembering what Ishtar had said to her back at the alcove. She was resolute in this. Not intervening cost her this much and led to a revenge plot that no one could have seen coming their way. She would not repeat the same mistakes now.

No more waiting. No more standing back. She had to take action.

...is what she would have done if it weren’t for the sudden appearance of a certain Rigelian god and his four manaketes in tow. They dropped down from the air, and Zephyr flew three feet upward and let out a short scream. 

“Whoa!” she yelped, a hand holding her racing heart. “Goodness, Duma, what on earth are you-”

His wounds and those of the female manaketes caught her eye, and she grew frantic. “What the heck happened to you all?! What attacked you?!” she exclaimed, the others in the room rushing over now. Seeing _Duma_ injured at all was an unsettling sight.

“Summoner...we were attacked… by the one known as Loptous,” Duma explained, quietly panting - another sign that his fight was not an easy one. “They - he indicated the rising dragons - had warned me of his presence first before he found me. His strength is not to be trifled with… and I learned that the hard way.”

“Loptous?” Zephyr looked between the Askran royals and Anna, who all wore horrified looks. “Then that means…”

“Ishtar failed to stop him…” Alfonse finished grimly, gritting his teeth. “Duma, where is he? Where is Loptous?”

“In another part of the castle, but he is trapped by my magic. I do not know how long this magic will hold, but it should be long enough to get the Summoner to safety… for he is after her weapon.”

“He’s after Breidablik?” Anna said for Zephyr, whom was just as in equal shock as she. “But why? He wouldn’t be able to use it. _No one_ can use Breidablik but the Summoner. So what’s his deal?”

“I don’t know, but I think we can start with implementing those drastic measures now,” Zephyr said hastily, “starting with making sure he _doesn’t_ get his greedy claws on it. This weapon is the lifeblood of the Order. The consequences could be disastrous if anything fatal were to damage it.”

 **“Really? Now I’m** **_very_ ** **interested.”**

All eyes turned to the new voice as Loptous warped into the conference room, patting off his tarnished and burned regalia. He looked none too worse for wear despite the attacks he took, including his own. It was as if he miraculously healed overnight.

 **“Hehe… now** **_this_ ** **is my lucky day,”** he crowed. **“The only thing that would make things luckier is if you politely just handed it over, Zephyr.”**

“I’m not handing anything over to you!” Zephyr shouted, knowing full well that she didn’t stand a sliver of a chance against this guy - the power he radiated had her knees buckling and her breath drop like lead in her belly. “Now give Julius back!”

  
**“Hm. Okay then. If that’s how it’s going to be.”** He raised a palm, charging it with malevolent glee. **“Then I’ll just have to rip it from your rotten corpse.”**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The fight scene in this one might seem short, but that's to show off Loptous' a smidgen of his newfound power and just how much stronger he's actually gotten (that, and I'm trying to improve on my writing for fight scenes in general). Needless to say, this final boss battle is gonna be a tough one.


	15. A Family Affair! (Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bonds are reforged and Loptous' plans are finally revealed. Will our heroes be able to stop the fiend?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now, when I said I was going to take a while to make the chapter, I hadn't meant to take this long. Whoops. XD
> 
> This one is a bit of lengthy one, kinda goes into exposition dump territory, so be aware. Originally, this was going to have a huge epic anime fight scene in it, but I scrapped the idea so I could focus on just the exposition here and pacing a little better. That, and having a major fight crammed with the narrative would ruin the flow, I think.

 

* * *

 

 

Chapter 15

 

A Family Affair! (Part 1)

 

Elsewhere in the castle…

Several moments before Loptous’ attacks began in earnest, Lyon rested in his bed, sleep unable to take him. The food he had eaten earlier that day had turned to stone in his stomach, and his thin comforter, usually enough to keep him comfortable even in the frostiest of nights, had done the opposite and felt cold strike at him. He knew he needed the rest, knew that if he didn’t it could cost him dearly if he didn’t have the strength to fight.   
  
Oh, right. He couldn’t fight, even if he wanted to. Without the Demon King’s aid, Naglfar’s power alone would pale to the sheer might of Loptous, and he would most certainly be killed. A part of him acknowledged this fact, and accepted that, despite his immense growth over the past year in the Order and his prowess among the rest of the (arguably stronger) competition here, there were just some battles that he wasn’t meant to fight. 

But another part of him, a firmer part, was bitter, stubborn, outright rebellious. If the dragon was after him, then so be it. Loptous was a frightening opponent, no questions there; experiencing his powers first-hand was something that both haunted him and sent uncharacteristic paralysis shivering through his spine every time he remembered the attacks’ unholy stings they carried when they made impact. The evil that permeated from the Earth Dragon made the Demon King look like a priest! 

And yet, if it came down to it, killed or not, he would fight. He would rather it be him that Loptous targeted than anyone he cared for… Ephraim… the Summoner.

He flipped over to face the door, hands gripping the comforter tighter and wrinkling the sheets. If he couldn’t protect them, then what use was he? The thought of losing either his lifetime friend or his first true love to that monster made his skin prickle with fear.

Could he do it? Was there a chance to fight an enemy far greater than he with what little power he held…?

A knock snapped him out of his reverie, and he willed himself to sit up and step out of what little lukewarm comfort his bed had offered him. “Yes? Who is it?” he called. He hoped it was Zephyr bringing back some hopefully good news as to how to subdue Loptous, or perhaps a way for him to aid in the eventual battle. He had his doubts that Ishtar could really settle things with her fiancé on her own that easily, powerful as she was.

Luck, unfortunately, was not with him today, and his skin drained of color when the voice from behind the door, in a tone clearly not the Summoner’s, replied, “It’s me, Lyon. It’s Ephraim. I… I wanted to talk.”

Ephraim. The red mage swallowed thickly, suddenly wishing he had just fallen asleep. He hadn’t been ready to confront him yet, especially with everything coming down. And this time, he couldn’t escape, not without risk of getting caught by Loptous. 

In the end, two paths opened to him then, an internalized battle that had come to a standstill for too long: a part of him was still scared of what Ephraim would think of him after that day, and wanted nothing more to do with it. Another refused to stay stuck in the past and wanted to get it over with. 

The latter won out.

He opened the door to see the cerulean-haired lord in his standard attire, giving him a bit of a berth so he could step inside. He couldn’t get a clear read on his face, but it seemed pretty neutral. He wasn’t sure if should have taken that as a good sign or not; Ephraim was usually unafraid to express his feelings.

As Lyon closed the door, Ephraim said, “I’m not angry with you, Lyon.”

Lyon stopped and blinked, as if he had been suddenly robbed of his hearing in that moment. Slowly, he turned on his heel to face his friend, blinking again. “What did you say?”

“I’m not angry with you, Lyon,” Ephraim repeated. “I never was.” He sat on the edge of the unmade bed, massaging his knees. Was that nervousness the Grado Prince saw? Couldn’t have been. Ephraim was never nervous, he was the prime definition of unwavering confidence. 

“B-but…” Lyon couldn’t believe what he was hearing. His eyes were dotted with confusion. “Why?”

“ _ Why? _ ” The Renais Prince looked at Lyon as if he were mad. “Why would I be? What happened back at the training room… it wasn’t your fault.”

“But I…” Lyon trailed off, his gaze falling on the two healing pinpricks that marked Ephraim’s neck from where the Demon King attacked. Too miniscule to be seen as any real damage, but the implications of what could have been something much worse stiffened his throat. “I  _ hurt  _ you, Ephraim. I tried to kill you again. I-”

“ _ You  _ didn’t do any of that,” Ephraim cut in with a shake of his head. “That was the Demon King’s doing. If anything, it was my fault for not trying harder to get you back… or stopping him. You’re not to blame for anything.”

“Ephraim…” 

He couldn’t believe. _ He couldn’t believe it,  _ and he knew it to be true all the same. Slowly, surely, Lyon walked over and took his friend in an embrace, feeling his heart positively about to burst and very much wanting to break down, but somehow he managed to hold his emotions back. His friend didn’t hate him… he didn’t hate him… “Ephraim… thank you…” he whispered. “I feel like such a fool for thinking you hated me… and I avoided you this entire time...”

Ephraim hugged him back, a comforting hold that wasn’t nearly as tight as their first hug upon meeting each other in the training room, and all of a sudden the mage was taken back to another time, a time without war, back in Serafew. “Lyon, it’s all right, it’s all right. I’m sorry it took me this long to even get back to you on this, especially when I heard about that little stunt you pulled out on the Askran border.”

“‘Little stunt’?” Lyon said before he quickly responded with a realizing, “ _ Ah,  _ that little stunt. Yes, that was a little reckless of me…”

“It certainly was,” chided Ephraim, poking Lyon harshly in the forehead and earning a startled yelp from the mage. “You could’ve gotten yourself in a lot of hot water doing that plan of yours. Archers are one thing, but that was practically a militia! And don’t even get me started on how the heck involving  _ Valter  _ was a good idea.”

Lyon sheepishly scratched his head. He figured as much that Ephraim wouldn’t be for that plan of attack, especially knowing that the mad wyvern rider was involved. “Things could have went south, yes… and yet, if I could do that again, I would,” he said truthfully. “I don’t regret a thing that I did - and then he quickly added when he saw Ephraim’s face twist - except having Valter around of course. He was the only other one that could have helped pulling this off.”

(He didn’t say anything about why he was there. He wasn’t ready to confess about him having feelings for the Summoner, which in turn would lead to him confessing about their relationship.)

He gained a bit of a smile. “Saving the Summoner was all that mattered to me. I didn’t think, I just… well,  _ did.  _ And it was such a rush, I couldn’t help but feel invigorated with it all…”

This time, it was Ephraim’s turn to blink in surprise. “You, invigorated by battle? Have you been spending too much time with Ike or something?”

Lyon’s eyes panned in an arc, giving Ephraim a bored look. “You’re one to talk, you musclehead.”

“Nerd.”

Both snorted at their lame insults at each other, a welcoming quiet that wrapped around them. After a moment, Ephraim’s smile fell and he asked with some trepidation, “The Demon King… has he really been here since…?”

“Yes,” Lyon answered, leaving the hug. He finally managed the courage to sit next to his lifelong friend, hair framing his face in a sorrowful shadow. “Even he was surprised when he found he was alive. He still gives me trouble, as you know, and he takes hold of me at the most inconvenient of times - this earned him a look of fury from the other prince, but he knew his anger was not directed to him - , however… compared to how he was in the past… he’s rather tame. Perhaps because he has no access to his body where his true power lies.”

“Or because he knows he’s stuck with no way out, and he can’t resurrect a new body without consequences.” Ephraim sighed, running a hand through his short cerulean locks. “I don’t know, but I hate the fact he still has control of you like that. I killed him to free you of that burden, so you could be free, so you…”

This time, he was the one who trailed off, a solemn air taking hold. His eyes glistened before he furiously wiped at them. This shook the red mage’s core. Ephraim wasn’t one to lose himself like that. He had only seen him cry once, when Ephraim had finally put him to rest with his own blade…

“Lyon.” The prince of Renais faced his companion, a calloused, battle-worn hand gripping Lyon’s softer one.  “We’re still friends, no matter what happens. If the day comes again where you need to be freed from that fiend, when you can’t regain your sense of self… I will be there to stop you. I swear it.”

Lyon’s hand gripped back. He knew Ephraim would, because he  _ was  _ his friend. “I will hold you to that promise.”

A landslide of power rumbled over the prince of Grado at that moment, hand immediately searching for his tome. Ephraim must’ve felt it too, because he was reaching for his weapon that he had near the nightstand. “What was that?” he asked, poised to strike.

Lyon’s throat was dry as he swallowed, knowing full well what that power was.  _ ‘Ishtar… she couldn’t stop him…’  _ he thought, a gelid mound of terror building in chest.  _ ‘Which means…!’  _

He turned to his friend and responded, “Loptous… it was Loptous. This is dangerous. If you’re able to feel that power, then we might be too late.” 

“Loptous?” Ephraim’s eyes narrowed. “Who is that? What’s going on?”

Another rumbling shake of power rocked them, this time stronger. Lyon stood up, heading for the door. “I’ll tell you on the way. We have to get moving and find where he is before he can cause anymore damage.”

As Ephraim hurriedly raced after the speeding mage, his mind was made up in that moment for him. Forget what Fomortiis or the others said. 

He wasn’t going to sit back and let Loptous have his way.  
  


* * *

Back at the conference room….

Loptous held Zephyr at bay, his palm charging a baleful light, looking at the other occupants in the room tauntingly, as if waiting for any of them to make a move to save her. The Askran nobles and the commander had brandished weapons, the injured Manaketes and Duma poised to strike, but they dare not attack; their Summoner was in terrible danger in this position. It was a deadly standoff.

**“Well, what’s it gonna be, Zephyr?”** Loptous said, inching the attack just a little closer, the energy reflecting in Zephyr’s glasses.  **“Will you let you and your friends die? Or will you come quietly? This doesn’t have to be hard, you know. All I need is your surrender.”**

“What do you need Breidablik for? You can’t even use it!” Zephyr asked, trying not to let her fear show, not an easy feat considering this was a mad god that they were going up against. Loptous being this close made standing a chore, much less breathing. It was like a crushing mass of gravity pulling her (and everyone else) down. But she wasn’t going down, at least not without some semblance of a fight.

If you called back talk and fearfully clutching the most important weapon in the whole of Askr a fight.

**“You are correct, Summoner. You** **_are_ ** **the only one that can use Breidablik,”** Loptous agreed with mocking nod of his head.  **“I’ll just have to borrow you for the time being so it can work… even if it means I have to break your spirit to do it.”**

Zephyr’s eyes narrowed further, her weapon glowing as she clutched tighter to her chest, feeling every hair on her body twitch and stand on end. She knew he would and  _ could _ go through with that threat, but despite that… “That doesn’t answer the question, Loptous. What do you mean?”

Something about that statement struck Alfonse, however. “You don’t mean to take over the Summoner’s body, do you?” he said, to the astonishment of the others.

Loptous hummed in what could only be a curious surprise, crimson reptilian eyes sliding over to meet Alfonse’s.  **“You’re quite the sharp one. How’d you figure?”** he inquired.

“I figured that could have been the only way that plan of yours could work,” Alfonse responded carefully, watching Loptous closely and instinctively bringing Folkvangr closer to him in a more defensive pose. “I did some reading on you when we first recruited the Holy War units. You’re an Earth Dragon that’s possessed others in the past, most often those closely related to the Loptous bloodline, to gain power and control against Naga and eventually rule Jugdral. It’s the sole reason you’ve slipped your talons into Julius, and changed him into who he is today.”

His glare was fiery. “But I can correctly assume that you can possess anyone with enough effort. You’re a god, after all.”

**“...”** Loptous lowered his hand and extinguished the blast, clapping slowly with a slightly amused smirk.  **“I’m impressed. Someone around here actually did their homework. Good on you, mortal. I applaud you.”**

He stopped clapping and turned back to the Summoner, unafraid of the surrounding fighters.  **“But yes, those are my intentions. I figured I can’t use it on my own. So… I decided on the next best thing. Knowing the Summoner wouldn’t willingly do this… ‘little favor’ for me, simply using her body was a genius idea on my end. She isn’t related to my bloodline in any shape or form, but that won’t be an issue once I claim her soul. And what better way to bring my reign back to fruition than to attain a weapon that can summon an insurmountable amount of Heroes… or, in my case, my delightful followers?”**

“You’re mad!” Anna shouted now. “You mean to tell us the entire time you were here you meant to bring the whole of the Loptous sect back here just so you can have your power?”

**“Precisely,”** Loptous answered.  **“I was never once a part of your cause of “saving the world”. Not then, and certainly not now. I only cooperated out of my own interests, knowing that these kinds of goals take time and lots of effort to pull off.”**

A brief pause entered the room before he continued, scowling, **“I lost once because my human side had some semblance of control. The good, caring side of Julius, the side I was sure that I had extinguished, held me back against that fateful battle with Sigurd’s son and… and** **_Naga…”_ ** The whole room quivered with Loptous’ rage at the mention of his brethren.  **“Now, I’ve come better prepared. Julius can do nothing now to stop me, even if he wanted to. I’ll take my prize, and reap what I sow… and take care of the trash doing it.”**

“Leave Zep-Zep and her friends alone!” screeched Fae indignantly from her spot on the ground. Despite her injuries, she was willing to go toe-to-toe with this malicious monster. “You hurt them, I’ll whoop ya!”

“Yeah, you evil dragon!” added Tiki supportively. “We’ll beat you!”

**“Really now?”** Loptous said with an ugly sneer. He leaned his back over a nearby chair in dramatic fashion, a hand over his forehead and fake crying. **“Oh, I’m so scared, a bunch of children are going to beat me into the ground. Oh, the horror~! Have mercy on me!”**

He waved his other hand, and a swath of magic sealed Fae and Tiki’s lips shut.  **“Seriously, kids, do you think you, much less anyone else in this room, can stop me?”** was his condescending remark as the Divine Dragons struggled to remove whatever it was that silenced them. As an added measure, he threw up several barriers that ensnared the remaining Heroes.  **“Save your breath. You would only waste your time trying to fight and die. Not even the so called God of Strength could hinder my progress for long.”**

He recentered his focus onto the Summoner once more, ignoring the shouts and retaliation of those captured.  **“Now,** **_I will have you_ ** **, like it or not. I will claim your soul, and rule this world and the next, until all is shrouded in dark.”**

“My answer remains the same, you mad god,” Zephyr spat. “I’d rather die than give this up.”

The sheer audacity of her statement caused his eyes to form into veritable slits, his hands glowing vehemently.  **“Then your fate is sealed.”**

Too fast for her to try and flee his assault, a claw came down on Zephyr’s shoulder….

Before a sudden shield of energy came up to deflect the attack entirely. Loptous recoiled, taking a few steps back to observe the barrier with visible caution and befuddlement.  **“What in the name of…?”**

Zephyr was probably just as confused, if not more so, than the Earth Dragon was, looking between herself, the other occupants, and Loptous in quick sweeps. She didn’t conjure that spell on her own. She knew little about magic, and could barely summon a spark of flame from the most basic of fire spells, much less create a magic barrier. So what was…?

The answer came to her upon Loptous’ next words.  **“Ah, I see now. Looks like the Demon King has marked you for protection against me,”** he observed.  **“That mark on your neck tells me everything I need to know. Shameful, really, that it’s considerably weak… or rather, gone.”**

The barrier dropped as soon as it arrived, the mark with it. Zephyr gulped, now truly afraid with her only protection gone. She had completely forgotten he had placed that seal on her for this purpose. She was exposed to him, and so was her soul. 

**“Well, time to finish what I came here for,”** the Earth Dragon said nonchalantly, approaching the Summoner again. **“And then, your petulant, purple-haired friend and his equally terrible demon will be next-”**

_ Fyoom! _

The sound of a beam of light crashing through the door and hitting Loptous square in the chest interrupted him once more, sending him smack into the wall. On the other side of the entrance was Deirdre, a brilliant gold aura in the image of Naga surrounding her. Two more beams of light freed the captured occupants from their magical prisons. Behind her were Arvis and Sigurd, the former’s hands alight in baleful flame.

**“Loptous, your reign of terror ends here,” “** Deirdre” announced, an echoing, bell-like ring reverberating in the room, a stark contrast to the raspy, hoarse rumblings of the Earth Dragon.  **“Return Julius’ body to his owner at once. I will not hesitate to defeat you a second time if you do not comply.”**

Loptous coughed, glowering with killer intent.  **“Naga…”** he growled as he sat up from the crater-sized hole in the wall, baring vicious fangs. The beams of light left faint burns on his skin, which melted over when his powers healed him.  **“I should have known you would intervene sooner or later. I was careless.”**

He barely took a step forward when a large ember stayed his tracks.  “Take another step and I won’t hesitate to leave you in nothing but ash!” Arvis roared. Scarlet eyes matched the intensity of his flames in that moment as he advanced, and in that instant the room had flashed several degrees higher. The air shimmered and grew a heavy, dry heat, and Zephyr found herself burning up, taking the cloak off before she could pass out. Seeing Arvis get this pissed off was a sight only documented one other time here in Askr, and that time nothing was left to be seen but cinder. 

Needless to say, Zephyr wasn’t sure how she was as calm as she had been as she snuck away to stick with Alfonse, Sharena, and Anna. If Loptous didn’t kill them, the heat definitely would.

“Arvis, be careful-” cautioned Sigurd, seeing the danger this situation could cause for all parties involved, but the Duke of Velthomer gave him a sideways glare. 

“Don’t tell me to be careful, Sigurd. I’m aware my son’s still in there, and I intend to bring him back. But first, I’m eliminating this lizard.”

**“And eliminate your allies too?”** Naga said, pointing to the steadily burning occupants of the room. The Summoner was leaning against the table, eyes squeezed shut and panting.  **“Your ire is understandable, but it will consume those you aren’t targeting as well. Temper your flames, Arvis. I will handle this.”**

Arvis looked to the steadily cooking victims, his eyes landing on the Summoner. Her gaze practically begged for relief, on her knees at this point.  He looked back to Naga, then sighed and decided to swallow his anger for the moment. A better opportunity would come to kill that conniving black snake. A single whiff of his hands was all it took for the room’s temperature to drop drastically back to normal. 

“Thank you, Arvis…” gasped Zephyr, panting as sweat drenched the undershirt she wore. Her glasses foggy and her dark skin tinged red, she was in a bad way, but she would survive.

Arvis merely grunted in reply, not even in any mood to properly speak to her. Zephyr wasn’t offended; the fact he managed to calm his fire in such a foul mood was astounding.

Loptous was sweating, red hair sticking to his face, but he didn’t look as badly affected, or at least he didn’t show it. He grinned savagely at Arvis, hissing,  **“Ah, Emperor of Grannvale, and former Duke of Velthomer. You would treat me, someone of your bloodline, so poorly? I’d have at least expected some form of respect. You wound your old man.”**

Arvis was about to bark out a retort, but it was Sigurd who stepped in with an icy, “Related to you or not, his real family lies with his  _ son _ , not the monster possessing him. You’ve no right to ask for his respect, nor do you deserve any.”

**“Oh, shut up, Baldur descendent,”** Loptous spat hatefully.  **“You’re the one I least want to hear about your worthless prattle. When you died and I killed your wife, that was the last I should have seen of you lot. My plan should have been flawless. Jugdral should have been mine. And yet…”**

Loptous snarled, flexing his nails to their fullest extent as power charged in them.  **“That son of yours… after Lyon and Julia, is my most hated adversary. I never wanted to feel a mortal’s blood crust my claws to such a degree in all my millennia of life. And he will be one of the first victims to die when I get my hands on the Summoner and her weapon!”**

**“Not on my watch, you won’t,”** Naga objected, claws of her own appearing on her mortal form.  **“Your plans for domination… I will not allow it. As long as I draw breath, your efforts will falter.”**

**“Big words coming from a god that barely shows her face, and needed the help of mortals to stop me from killing her and the rest of her kind,”** Loptous retorted in kind. **“Enough talk! Just watch me-aaah!”**

Loptous held his head, dropping to his knees.  **“Kid, what are you doing?! Get outta here! This isn’t your fight!”**

“Shut up, you bastard!” Julius’ voice ripped out of him, startling those watching. “I only wanted Lyon out of my hair and nothing more! I didn’t want my father involved in this! I didn’t want  _ any  _ of this other stuff!”

**“Oh,** **_now_ ** **you have a heart? This is the reason you’re so weak, kid! Just stay back where I put you and let me take care of things!”**

“No way! I can’t let you kill them! I can’t let you kill my father! I  _ won’t  _ let you kill my father!”

**“Enough!”**

Loptous shrieked, the visage of his true form appearing in a red and black aura around his body. Power crackled and hissed in his hands, eyes the epitome of rage.  **“No more of that! I’m taking everyone in this wretched castle down!”**

He lunged for Zephyr, but Naga moved first, firing another beam of light that shot through the wall and out the other side. She charged after him, Sigurd hot on her heels. “Deirdre, wait-!”

Arvis followed not too soon, Zephyr catching a glimpse of his face: guilt, anger, sorrow. All etched into one expression. He had heard his son in there, calling out to stop Loptous, to save his father, and refusing for this to go down. Alas…  
  
Zephyr shakily stood on feebly feet, removing her glasses - the metal frames had become warped and harder to see through - and brought out another pair from its case in her pocket. She never left without an extra pair, knowing battle was always a messy activity. “Can… can any of y’all move at all?” the Summoner announced with a cough, draping her cape around her shoulders.   
  
“Somehow,” answered Sharena, supported by an equally weakened Anna. “That heat almost knocked me out!”

“Fae and Tiki were not so lucky,” Duma answered grimly, holding the two KO’d Manaketes in his arms. Myrrh and Nowi were barely standing, leaning on the wall for support. Duma himself looked relatively unscathed from the scalding temperatures, but sweat still gleamed against his muscled skin.  
  
“Gods…” Alfonse grit his teeth, stumbling to his feet. “We can’t go on like this.”

“No, we can’t.” Zephyr turned to everyone still conscious. “Which is why we need a plan. Naga’s gonna have a tough time fighting Loptous on her own, and I doubt just having Arvis and Sigurd there is gonna level the playing field, strong as they are. We gotta find Reinhardt and the others-”

“If others means us, then you got it, Zephyr.”

This came from a new voice, this time from a familiar sword cavalier of Nordion. Behind him were the rest of the Crusader descendents (or at least those that the Summoner had managed to summon at least). Reinhardt was absent. Zephyr’s eyebrows raised. “Eldigan!” she exclaimed. “Man, how’d you find us? And where’s Reinhardt?”

“He had to tend to Lady Ishtar. Shortly after Reinhardt gathered us together and subsequently left, our holy weapons guided us here,” Eldigan explained, showing his glowing Mystletainn. “They seemed to be drawn by Naga’s power, or at least that’s my theory anyway.”

His expression turned sour as he looked at the mess strewn about. “Unfortunately, it seems we were too late in stopping Loptous’ fury from coming to fruition. Gods, what happened?”

“If you want the short version, Loptous wants to possess me to take hold of Breidablik’s power,” said Zephyr, sighing in relief as Ethlyn set to healing the injured. “He’s planning on bringing back the Loptous sect and conquering all of Askr and beyond.”

There was a collective wave of alarm at the mention of the evil group, particularly that from Seliph. “What?! The Loptous sect?!” Seliph exclaimed. Beneath the distraught appearance one could see despair written all over him. He had fought tooth and nail to stop the darkness returning and now... “He’s mad! If he does that, everyone will die!”

“Can he even take hold of you?” Ares asked now. “I was always under the impression that only those of Loptous descent could be possessed.”

“Loptous says he can,” Alfonse answered this time. “He says he would only have to claim her spirit for him to fully possess her, and he very nearly succeeded were it not for the likes of Deirdre, Arvis, and Sigurd intervening at the last moment.”

“Father? Where is he now?” Seliph questioned hurriedly. 

“That way,” Anna said with a nod out the hole that was blasted. The sound of fighting outside and snarling dragons in the distance was more than a dead giveaway that the real fighting was underway.

“We better get moving. I don’t know how long they’ll be able to hold them off,” Quan said uncertainly, worried for his lifelong friend. 

“Not so fast, Quan,” Zephyr warned. “As much as I’d like to go charging in, this is _ Loptous _ , and a much stronger version of him at that. We rush in like barbarians and we all risk a wipeout. We need a plan.”

All eyes soon turned on her with an expectant look the Summoner all too well. 

And thus, Zephyr’s gambit would be born.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Loptous sure loves to monologue. I always thought of him as possibly the type to do that.
> 
> Next chapter, big raid boss in the form of Loptous incoming. :P


	16. Zephyr's Gambit!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zephyr's plan to take down Loptous and save the castle begins. But will it work!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew! Fair warning, everyone, this is another long one, and might have a few errors due to how many changes this chapter has been through. I want to get to them all in due time, maybe rewrite some things because HOLY MOLY I hadn't intended to make this chapter as long as it currently is (It actually was supposed to be longer, but decided against it.)

 

* * *

 

Chapter 16

 

Zephyr’s Gambit! (Part 2)

**“RAAAAAARGH!”**

Loptous’ ferocious battle cries echoed across the hall as he and Naga dueled. Their true forms had now appeared and gathered around their hosts’ bodies, translucent and sparking with power. Talons raked across scales, teeth latched onto wings, tails battered ribs. The floors shook and walls cracked with every tackle and smack that landed. Magic flew every which way. It was a vicious struggle between gods and men, the likes of which had never been before seen in Askr.

 **“You’re stronger than I thought, wench!”** Loptous sneered, landing a vicious swipe to Naga’s jaw, a trail of dark magic behind it. **“But I doubt you can take me on with this newfound power!”**

The blow sent Naga reeling, but she and her host held firm to their position and gave an adamant hip check in response. **“I can hold my own fine, Loptous,”** Naga retorted levelly. **“But that degradation is already eating at your sanity. All the more reason I must defeat you.”**

**“Degradation? You make it sound as if it’s bad. No, it’s only made me realize how much I’ve missed out. This much power that I’ve taken in… I knew I made the right choice in not choosing take on a human form! I would have been held back otherwise!”**

**“You stubbornness was your and the other Earth Dragons’ undoing in the end. It is why you were defeated. And now, you will be defeated the same way!”**

**“Just try and stop me, Naga! RRRRAAAARRRGH!”**

As the two dragons fought, Sigurd, being who he was and trying to aid his wife in combat, was slowly realizing that he might have been out of his league here in this endeavor. He was powerful in his own right, using his smaller size to his advantage as he darted in to slash at Loptous’ legs and running back out to dodge any counterstrikes, Arvis following up the two-pronged attack with a dash of flame. But with only the two of them, not counting Deirdre, he and Arvis wouldn’t have a sliver of a chance fighting this enhanced beast by themselves, even with their signature weapons. Where were the others?

“This is going nowhere fast,” Sigurd stated, leaping out of the way of a claw swipe meant for him this time - Loptous was quickly realizing that the two were more than mere pests, and needed to be removed. “We can’t fight him on our own. We need reinforcements!”

“Glad you’re finally picking up on that notion, Sigurd!” Arvis replied dryly, ducking underneath Loptous’ obsidian tail, then jumping away from Naga’s foot that was ready to crush him. “But we cannot leave Deirdre! She will die!”

(Not to mention he couldn’t leave his _son,_ trapped as he was within the evil dragon. But with them dueling, it made even reaching him a risky gamble that couldn’t be accomplished by two people and Naga.)

“I know that!” Of course, Sigurd knew better than anyone leaving his wife behind was a death wish, even with Naga’s protection. He couldn’t afford to lose her a second time...

As if to prove them wrong, and shut the Earth Dragon up for a moment from his raging, screaming fit, Naga crunched down on Loptous’ arm, and with a half-spin chucked him down the hall in a resounding crash, sending both host and dragon flying and caused a mountain of rubble to fall on them. Stunned couldn’t even describe Arvis’ face in that moment, with Sigurd being equally as awed.

 **“You underestimate me and Deirdre,”** Naga calmly told the two with no hint of annoyance in her tone. She looked none too worse for wear, and Deirdre, protected in the essence of the Divine Dragon, was as spry as ever, but remorseful for her actions - for while she was fighting the Earth Dragon, she was also fighting her son as well. **“We will be fine. It is you two that need to flee. You are no match for Loptous on your own. Stand back, and make sure no other innocents enter the battle. I will hold Loptous here until the other crusaders arrive.”**

“But Loptous, he’s-!” Sigurd began, but Naga put a sword-sized claw on his head to silence him, ruffling his hair.

“We will be fine,” Deirdre reassured now from inside the dragon, a kindred smile meeting her eyes. “I have the power to stop him. Just wait for me, okay?”

Sigurd hesitated for a moment, but he begrudgingly followed her orders, motioning for Arvis to do the same. The Duke of Velthomer glared at him, then his gaze softened when he focused back onto Deirdre, then finally dashed away with the Baldur descendent.

Of course, this much battling was bound to attract the attention of other Heroes in the castle, unaware of Loptous’ plight. Many of those that had seen the battle immediately got it in their heads to run to where it was safe. But others?

Right as Loptous crashed, Valter and Narcian arrived on the scene. Just a few feet more, and they would have been crushed under the weight of Loptous’ body.

“Gods! What manner of beast is that?!” Narcian exclaimed, his wyvern (both of them had brought their wyverns in when they were attracted to such noise) growling vehemently. “Is that what our wyverns have been hearing? And how’d it even get in?!”

Valter brought out the Cursed Lance without hesitation, a stance that prepared himself for battle taking form. “I can’t think of anything else that could make this much of a racket otherwise. Oh, but what sport! Umbra, let’s get going!”

He blinked in shock when his wyvern wasn’t moving, instead opting to hiss defensively, tail whipping about behind her, ears flat. Umbra, a wyvern who had seen her fair share of strong opponents and slaughtered them all mercilessly in the past, was _afraid_. A flash of astonishment swept his face. Fear, in his wyvern? “Umbra, what’s gotten into you? Move it!”

Umbra wasn’t the only one that was getting cold talons. Narcian was physically trying to push his wyvern out of the way and get him moving. “Galerian! Galerian, what are you doing?!” Narcian yelled, the rustic colored wyvern rooted to the spot and growling. “Let’s go! Are you cowering in the face of the enemy?”

At this point in time, Loptous was beginning to recuperate and climbed out of the rubble, sitting up on his hindquarters and licking the blood from his arm - similarly, his host sported a nasty gash on his arm as well and did his best to wipe it off - and saw the struggling generals from his peripheral. Oh, goody. The other mortals were beginning to arrive. He couldn’t have that. Even if they were two lowly wyvern riders…

 **“Get out of my way, worms!”** he hissed, firing a dark blast straight at them, nearly blasting them to smithereens had their wyverns not snapped out of their trance at that moment. They snatched their riders and took to the air, this time raring for battle, roaring defiantly at their adversary. It was one thing to mess with them, but quite another to mess with their masters!

Loptous’ sneer was an ugly one as his red eyes peered up at them. **“Pathetic half-breeds,”** he crowed. **“You were cowering moments ago, and now you decide to take up arms? You should be ashamed to side with these meddling mortals. You think you and your fleshy riders can take me on, in the face of my power? Be my guests.”**

The general of Bern was seething, and Galerian was just as angry. “How dare you?! You can make a mockery of me all you like, but taunting Galerian is asking for punishment!” Narcian yelled. “He is no half-breed, and he is certainly better than the petulant snake you are! Now, learn your place as I cut you down!”

He charged forward, Slaying Axe (the Summoner had managed to give him a much better weapon than the Emerald Axe) waving, Valter not far behind. Naga groaned inwardly. Now even more distractions? This wasn’t good. She couldn’t have anyone else that wasn’t the crusaders get involved. And they didn’t look to be the type to back off without argument, something she didn’t have time for.

She would have to grin and bear it for the time being, she thought to herself as rejoined the fray. She would hope they and any others within the vicinity didn’t get murdered.

* * *

 

_“Zephyr, are you sure this is wise?”_

_Seliph spoke for everyone present as he, the other crusaders, and the Askran royals finished listening to Zephyr’s plan. The shaking walls and distant screams of dragons were telling that the battle was  well underway. “What you’re planning… I don’t mean to sound impolite, but this is incredibly dangerous. What if it doesn’t work? Loptous is a beast for sure, but he’s an intelligent one. He might see through your scheme.”_

_Zephyr’s jacket, hanging from the shoulders tied by the sleeves and exposing the black tank top underneath, billowed in the light air behind her. She turned to him, dead serious. “I’m sure. Loptous may be somewhat sharp, but that degradation has gone to his head and rendered rational thought moot. It’s because of this I think we have a higher chance of success… even if it does run a slight risk of death.”_

_“Slight risk?_ Slight risk _?” Eldigan questioned with narrowed gold eyes. “Zephyr, a slight risk means there’s a chance of it happening, but it’s incredibly miniscule, and you can afford to take the chance. You’re planning to_ use yourself as bait! _”_

_“Eldigan’s right, Zephyr,” Alfonse agreed with a disapproving shake of his head. “This is incredibly risky, even for you. Not to mention there are so many variables to consider, so many things that could go wrong.”_

_“Like Loptous could eat you or worse!” Nowi exclaimed. “He’s big enough, he could eat all of us if he wanted!”_

_“I know.” The Summoner’s tone wasn’t sharp, but it was dead set on her plan. “I know. But I also know that I’m putting all of you in terrible danger doing this stunt with me. Forget about me getting killed,_ you’re all at serious risk of dying. _That should be the part concerning you. If by chance this fails, I’ll be possessed and you lot will be eliminated on the spot.”_

_“The difference is is that we have experience in these types of situations,” Ares said. “We’ve been through life and death time and time again with various foes and-”_

_“And I haven’t?” argued Zephyr with an annoyed glare. “Because being here for nearly two years and being one of the biggest targets in the whole of Zenith doesn’t equate to dealing with life and death struggles. I nearly got assassinated the other day!”_

_“Zephyr, you’re our leader, our tactician, the one who gave many of us second chances to begin with,” Quan chimed in. “I got to see Leif and Ethlyn. Eldigan got to properly bond with Ares. And Sigurd… gods, Sigurd, I can’t even describe how irrevocably ecstatic he was when he found Seliph and Deirdre. You brought us all together again… and we would rather risk dying ourselves than you for that reason alone. We don’t want you throwing your life away.”_

_Anna nodded. “You have to leave this type of stuff to the pros. Sometimes you have to learn to stand back and let others handle it. Like Quan said, you’re the one who’s brought us together. You’re the anchor that holds the Order, more so even than I. You going out there is a risk too great to take.”_

_There were a few murmurs of agreement. Zephyr shook her head. “I understand your concern and fear for my safety; however, my stance is resolute. If throwing my life away equates to buying you,  Alfonse, and Sharena time to evacuate the castle, equates to getting this attack correct to defeat this damn lizard, then so be it,” Zephyr said stubbornly. “If it’s me he wants, it’s me he gets. You guys are always risking life and limb to protect me on a daily basis. I’m long overdue repaying the favor.”_

_“But there has to be a better way to stop this than needlessly sacrificing yourself! Loptous will kill you!” Sharena said exasperatedly. “And if you die, then… then….”_

_“If there was a better way, I’d take it, Sharena. But there isn’t, and we don’t have the time for a better one.” She closed her eyes, heaving a breath for a moment before looking at her team. Her eyes shone. “This wasn’t intended to be a grand plan. This wasn’t a plan where I had time to think of the pros and cons. Heck, I don’t expect me or anyone else to come out completely unscathed from this. But…”_

_She remembered Arvis’ words when she had been down on her luck after the arena incident. She didn’t quite understand what he had meant then; what good was a sacrifice if it was too great a risk to move forward? She understood now what he had been trying to tell her.  “Sacrifices… are necessary in war and in life. To be unwilling to make them is to be unable to move forward and do what is just,” she repeated those fateful quietly. “I hate sitting back on the bench and watching all the time, unable to do anything while you guys get hurt and I end up blaming myself for it. It’s time for me to take the field, in the best way I know how. So please… as your Summoner, who_ has _brought you all together… allow me to aid you on this front.”_

_No one moved a muscle. One could hear a pin drop in the very air as they all looked at their Summoner, various expressions on their faces. Some were still on the fence, others were definitely not on-board with the idea at all. Zephyr clenched a fist. Had they no confidence in her?_

_The stiff silence was only broken when Lewyn stepped forward. Zephyr could feel the lightest of breezes from his glowing tome swirling around him as he approached, tickling her shirt and jacket. “Your resolve… Forseti tells me it holds true,” he said calmly. “It tells me that it is unwavering; and despite your fear, you aim to fight. Is that correct, Zephyr?”_

_“Absolutely,” was Zephyr’s reply, feeling a slight chill run down her arms not from cold. It was as if the wind was testing her. “I will fight until I can fight no longer, if it means to protect my people.”_

_“Well said.”_

_Lewyn focused his gaze to the rest of the group. “Trust in Zephyr, believe in her,” he announced. “Forseti has spoken to her, and her heart to Forseti. Her plan will work.”_

_“How can you be so certain, Lewyn?” Alfonse asked._

_“Alfonse, Forseti does not lie when it sees the truth inside a man. And what Forseti saw in Zephyr all but confirms it. He sees the outcome of her actions, he sees her true nature. This plan will succeed.” He turned to Zephyr, a confident glint in his eye. “So, Zephyr, is it time to mobilize?”_

_A small smile ghosted her lips. “You bet it is.”_

 

_\---_

 

These thoughts raced through the Summoner’s head as they raced towards the battlefield. She still couldn’t believe that Lewyn of all people pitched for her when everyone doubted. She owed him and Forseti her life. The level of faith he had in her (and the fact he somehow persuaded the others) nearly brought her to tears.

The decoy squad (consisting of Quan, Leif, Seliph, Ares, and Eldigan) finally arrived at their destination. The battlefield was ravaged with destroyed walls, cracked floors, and stomping dragons. Blood was splattered everywhere, black and gold in its wake. Naga and Loptous seemed to be on equal footing, neither giving any ground, posing both good and bad news for Zephyr: good news because that meant that Naga wasn’t going down without some fight, and bad news because neither was Loptous. On the sidelines were Sigurd and Arvis, who hadn’t seen them yet, busy as they were trying to make sure no one was stupid enough to enter this battle, and in the air was Valter and Narcian, also dueling the evil dragon.

This posed a whole new set of problems. Getting Loptous to come after her, and not have everyone else get murdered in the process. She could only hope that Loptous would be too preoccupied with her to reach anyone else.

She shouted at the Earth Dragon, loud as she could, “HEY! OVER HERE!”

All combatants, not just the dragons, stopped fighting and turned to her. Loptous blinked, before he settled on all fours, creeping towards her with a formidable growl. She noted the massive scars and gashes that marked him from both dragon and wyvern rider, and she could even make out several scorched patterns on his belly, more than likely from Arvis. He carried himself with an undaunted air, as if the wounds didn’t phase him or his host.

 **“Summoner… that toy belongs to me!”** he snapped. The look in his eyes told of his sanity’s waning influence, replaced by madness. If this continued, he would be too lost to recover and Julius would never return to his body. **“Hand it over! I’ll make your friends’ death much less painful when I take your body!”**

“If you want it so badly, then come and get it!” Zephyr snapped back. “Otherwise, I’m not budging!” To really add fuel to Loptous’ ire, she waved Breidablik tauntingly in front of his face.

Needless to say, he didn’t appreciate.

**“I’ll show you what it means to taunt me! RRRRAAAARH!”**

He charged, jaws ready to snap both Eldigan and Zephyr, but a burst of flame smashed into his face and knocked him off his feet. Out of the ensuing smoke came Sigurd and Arvis, the latter’s hands filled to the brim with flame. Zephyr sighed in relief. What would she do without him?

“Father!” Seliph cried, a brimming joy on his face upon seeing Sigurd. “Father, are you alright?”

“Yes, son, but we don’t have time for a reunion,” Sigurd said, seeing the downed Earth Dragon beginning to stand once more. “Not while he’s still around and moving.” His gaze fell on Zephyr now. “What do we do, Summoner? This place is less than ideal to have a battle, and we might involve other innocents as well.”

“Which is why I’m getting us out of this joint,” Zephyr said. “Eldigan! Lead us out of here!”

“Understood!”

With a snap of the reins, he dashed off, speeding down the corridor to their destination, the other cavaliers hot on their heels, the Earth Dragon not too far behind. **“RAAARRGH! RAARGH! RAAARGH!”** Loptous shrieked. **“I will devour your soul!”**

The wyvern riders moved from a speeding Naga, zooming after the squad in a flurry of light. Narcian, whom was only mildly injured, grumbled, “Bah! We had him! I swear I’ll beat him to scales and scrap when I see him again!”

“You won’t be doing that if you keep on talking,” Valter deadpanned, moving on without him. “Besides, when was he _your_ prey? He’s clearly mine.”

“Why you…!” Galerian sped after the quickly disappearing Umbra. “I’ll show you, Valter!”

 

* * *

 

In the flurry of activity that was the other side of the castle, Lyon and Ephraim pushed their way through the ever growing crowd into a now empty study. With Anna and the Askran nobles (with Duma, the two conscious manaketes, and several other Heroes aiding them) trying to evacuate everyone out from the impending threat of Loptous, it was absolute chaos.

Lyon, for all of his motivation to stop the beast, just didn’t have the stamina to reach him. He leaned against the wall of the study, eyes squeezed shut and hair sticking to his brow. With no access to the Demon King’s powers, flying was out of the question; and he couldn’t get an exact read on Loptous to teleport where he needed to go. “Sorry, Ephraim… the crowd drained me of my strength,” he apologized.

“It’s all right, Lyon, it’s all right,” Ephraim breathed. “Gods… this is a mess...” Ephraim’s back was on the wall as well - he wasn’t nearly as exhausted as the mage, but he never expected he had to struggle to keep up with him. Lyon had become much stronger in his absence. “Just how strong is Loptous anyway?”

“The Demon King says he and Loptous are equal in strength,” Lyon replied once he caught his breath. “Formerly, Julius could hold Loptous’ full power back. It’s why I didn’t take more of a beating back at the arena. But now, I can hardly sense Julius anymore. It’s like Loptous has fully taken over his body… and his power… that power… it’s spilling over in waves. It’s almost nauseating in strength.”

Ephraim came over and wrapped an arm around his friend, and Lyon realized he was feeling faint, having slipped from the wall. “Easy, Lyon,” Ephraim said, easily supporting him. “I got you.”

The Renais prince frowned as he took in Lyon’s words. He remembered the Demon King being a fierce opponent, the strongest foe he had ever faced. He didn’t pull his punches - figuratively and literally, his ribs still ached every so often from a particularly damaging Ravager blow. The Demon King knew how to hold his own.

So to hear that Loptous was equal in strength to this beast was not only shocking, but chilling. It took an entire team to defeat the Demon King, and by the time the fighting had been done, the demon had left everyone in tatters. If Loptous’ power was continuing to grow as Lyon described…

He was finding it harder to stand, but withstood the urge to sit in order to keep his friend up. It was like being near the undead from his world, at least the stronger beings. “That pressure… is that him?”

“I think so. I can think of no one else with pressure this widespread and this… this evil,”   Lyon responded slowly, holding on to his friend’s shoulder for extra support. His head, gods his head, felt like he was drowning in a shroud of black, sickly earth, poisoning him. Loptous’ power was hideously gripping. “It’s like… what happened to me. When the Demon King took over my body before… when he stole complete control for the last time… that is what happened to Julius. If Loptous continues to use him, Julius will…”

The mage shook his head, forcing himself to stand straight at last. “I can’t have that happen. I must put a stop to Loptous’ madness. I don’t know what Zephyr has planned, or if she even has a plan… but I must go.”

The Renais prince’s eyes widened, and looked to his friend as if he hadn’t heard him correctly. “Lyon, you can’t!” Ephraim exclaimed. “If what you’ve told me is true… you’d die facing that monster!”

“Do you not trust me? I’m strong, stronger than I’ve ever been,” Lyon argued.

Ephraim sighed, running a hand through his cyan hair. “It’s not that I don’t trust you. It’s just… I’ve lost you once, and you nearly died fighting against him the first time. I can’t lose you again.”

“I don’t intend to die. I can still fight. When I saved Zephyr from the militia, I didn’t have the Demon King’s help. I used my own power.”

“That’s what I’m worried about most. That demon could wake up at anytime and snatch you away from me. Don’t you understand? I just want to protect you!”

“Ephraim, I’m sorry… but I cannot sit back anymore.”

The following look Lyon gave the lance wielder was the most determined he had ever witnessed. Not since his possession did he see an expression as fearsome as this one. “I have sat back on the sidelines for far too long. You are so strong, Ephraim… I’ve always admired you. You show no hesitation when you go into battle. And Eirika has always been so swift, so precise… yet when she fights… she shows such gentleness… even to someone like me. I’ve always been so envious of you two. You have such prowess, and I know I’ll never get to your level.”

He curled his hands up, strands of his hair hiding his face. “But now… I have power, power that I’ve worked hard to control. Power that I want to utilize for good. And with this power, I want to protect those I care for. I have too much to lose for me to not get involved.You, my friends, and...”

The image of Zephyr on their flight together brought a stronger curl to his fists. “And… so much more. That’s why I have to go.”

“Lyon…” Ephraim said. Such conviction, such unwavering confidence! Was this truly the same Lyon that  he had known before his death? He had been such a timid man before, non confrontational and usually unable to stand for himself. Now there was a different light in his eyes, still gentle… but stronger. Well-learned in the ways of battle.

Unafraid.

“I know going out there constitutes a huge risk, and not just because of Loptous either,” Lyon continued. “The Demon King shouldn’t be an issue for now - he honestly wants Loptous gone as much as everyone else does - but if things go awry… stop me. I know you’ve told me already…  but I just… needed some extra assurance you’ll be there for me when that happens.”

“Of course. I’ll always be able to stop you if it comes down to that,” Ephraim said with a solemn nod. “If you’re going out there, then at least let me aid you. I won’t hesitate to take down any who hurt my friends. However… if things get dicey with Loptous, pull out of there. Got it? I mean it.”

Lyon’s following smile was a bright one. “Gods… thank you, Ephraim.”

He could feel the Demon King’s power thrumming within, stretching, growing, ever so slightly. His slumber was wearing off, and Lyon could feel the demon’s earth-shaking yawns flow right into his veins. That’s right, he realized.

Julius wasn’t the only one with an inner demon.

* * *

 

“OH CRAP, OH CRAP, OH CRAP, OH CRA- AAAAAH, OH LORD, HE’S COMING!” Zephyr screamed as Loptous snapped at her back several times, nearly snatching her shirt in the process. Her grip on Eldigan tightened considerably. “WHAT WAS I THINKING?!”

“I thought you were sure about this plan!” called Eldigan above the shouting and roars. He and the others were riding as fast their mounts could carry them, and Loptous was still surging behind them with no signs of slowing down. The route they were taking had so far provided no obstacles and people in tow - all according to Zephyr’s plan. In this way, the castle would have time to evacuate to somewhere safer while leading the main threat away.

“I _am_ sure! Doesn’t mean I’m not scared!” Zephyr yelled back, leaning away from another incoming bite. “ _Eeek!_ Good god, this is bad!”

Quan swung with the Gae Bolg at the beast’s face with a mighty battlecry as Loptous attempted another grab for the Summoner, a sizeable gash embedding itself in his scales. What should have been a damaging blow that slowed the beast down did nothing but cause Loptous to snap at the Leonster prince before marching on for his prize. “What in-?”

Seliph whacked at Loptous’ nose, but only produced the same result. “What’s going on? These are holy weapons, why isn’t he hurt?”

“I’ll give it a try!” Zephyr pulled out Breidablik and fired several moderately sized energy shots - she had learned a while back that this gun could be used to attack (weakly), but only for a limited time and at a cost of her own energy. It was meant to control Heroes, not destroy them. Loptous shook the blasts off like it was nothing, only serving to enrage him further. **“Do you think that little pea-sized shot will work? Breidablik cannot work on me! I’m a god!”** Loptous loudly proclaimed.

“Damn it!” Zephyr swore, putting Breidablik away, seeing no use in wasting anymore necessary energy. “What _can_ hurt this dude?! It’s like he’s tanking every hit!”

 **“His steadily dwindling sanity and his unstable powers enable him to ignore attacks that would have normally hurt him a lot worse,”** Naga explained as she glided down closer to Zephyr, acting as a shield. **“If this keeps up, not only will he lose his mind, but he will inevitably rip apart his host’s spirit to keep a vessel for himself.”**

Arvis’ crimson eyes lit up, fire curling around his wrist. “I won’t let that happen, not if I can help it,” he growled. “How long do we have until then?”

 **“Not much longer, Arvis,”** came the dismal reply. **“I can not estimate how much time Julius has left… but if we don’t finish this battle quickly…”**

“Right.” Sigurd turned his gaze to Zephyr. “How far do we have to run?” Sigurd asked this time, smacking Loptous away from the Summoner with the Tyrfing, lightly gashing his eye. This resulted in a vicious hiss of pain from the dragon, and he picked up the pace, squeezing his large body through the tight corridors and ruining all in his wake.

“Not far now! We got a few more corners to turn!” Zephyr answered. “Whatever you guys do, don’t stop moving! We’ll be dead meat if we do!”

As soon as she said that, Loptous managed to push Naga away and snatch the Summoner off Eldigan’s horse, sinking his fangs into paper thin skin. **“Speaking of dead meat, guess who’s on the menu!”** Loptous crowed, biting her flesh harder, relishing in the screams that was elicited from her.

This garnered the attention of all present, but the knight of Nordion reacted first. He turned, mortified at the horrific shriek the Summoner let out and the blood that rained from her sides like tiny streams, staining the Earth Dragon’s maw and the floor below. “Zephyr!” Eldigan shouted, slowing down to try and save her.

“I’m right behind you, Father!” Ares said, already about to back him. Arvis looked ready to burn Loptous to a crisp, but Zephyr’s words stopped them all from making a move.

“What did I tell you guys?! Do not stop, no matter what!” Zephyr yelled, trying to ignore the blinding pain and swimming vision that surged through her body. Only the sheer amount of adrenaline and willpower pumping in her veins saved her from blacking out entirely. “Don’t worry about me and keep going! We’re almost there- AAH!”

The Earth Dragon bit harder to shut her up. **“I don’t know what you have planned, but I think I’ll stop it right here and now!”** Loptous growled. He flung her in the air, ready to swallow her whole, when Umbra swooped and grabbed her in her talons, fangs catching nothing but empty air. When he went to make another move, Galerian stopped him with a well aimed hip check, startling him. **“Why you-!!”**

“Sorry, but I cannot allow you to sate your bloodlust on her,” Valter said with a wag of his lance, a particularly shark-like grin appearing on his face - the thrill of battle, no matter the scenario, excited him. “Zephyr, are you still kicking down there?”

“Is that some kind of cruel joke?” Zephyr spat weakly, dangling haphazardly in Umbra’s grip - how had he and Narcian managed to catch up? “Because if it is, I’m not laughing.”

Valter cackled. “Oh, Summoner, have a sense of humor.”

Narcian’s eyes rolled skyward, and Galerian shook his rustic head. “This is how you act to your half-conscious Summoner? Have some dignity man, she’s dying!”

Naga flew up to Zephyr, healing her of her wounds with a golden glow. Almost instantly, the pain and wounds melted away, and Zephyr sighed with an unknown relief. “God… thank you, Naga,” Zephyr told her with a watery smile. “I don’t think I could go through being dragon food again.”

 **“I don’t think anyone would,”** Naga replied, and Zephyr could hear Deirdre speaking as well. The Divine Dragon looked up, seeing another sharp corner coming their way, with a glass-stained window at the end of the corridor. **“Is this…?”**

“The final turn…” Zephyr nodded, and grabbed Breidablik. This was it. “Everyone, the home stretch is upon us!” she called. “Hold fast and hoof it! It’s time we take this monster out once and for all!”

And at that moment, Breidablik summoned a portal for the Heroes to slip through, closing it just as Loptous stampeded the rest of the way, crashing right into the window. His disgruntled roars echoed as he flailed about in the air, tumbling to the ground. His eyes darted about, looking for the cavaliers… only to discover… other warriors in their stead.

And that’s when he knew what Zephyr’s plan had been _._

_A trap._

And as soon as he landed, magic and holy weapons fell upon him like a wolf upon sheep. The decoy team appeared a fair distance away out of another portal, stopping to look at the sneak attack working. The breeze had turned into a howling gale as Forseti’s rage ripped away at the downed dragon. Lightning rained down from Tailtiu’s tome, and even one could spot the infamous light beam of the Wargod’s Tome shining justice on his foe. Arvis’ face, for a split second, glowed with pride - he had been gathering the courage to get his relationship with his son in working order, and he couldn’t have felt more elated to see him do battle with the fell beast.

What _was_ surprising was the inclusion of other, non-descendent Heroes joining the fray. Zephyr could see Ike and his golden blade Ragnell smash black horns, and the glint of a Falchion from Chrom sunk into warped scales, creating an immense shriek of pain from Loptous. Even Joshua was there, smirking all the while like lady luck was with him.

“It’s worked,” Leif breathed in awe, seeing the struggling dragon trying to fight back to no avail. “It’s actually worked. You led him here, knowing he would be weakened from Naga’s initial battle, to finish him off here.”

“Kinda,” Zephyr replied as she was dropped to the ground. “This was meant to be a distraction attack until the castle was properly evacuated, but this works out properly too.  I’m surprised the others managed to snag some other Heroes not swept in the chaos.”

“I am too, but I guess in the grand scheme of things, it works in our favor,” Quan said. “With more people on our side and Loptous already having sustained heavy damage beforehand, this battle is over.”

“We’ll see,” Arvis said, not taking his eyes off the battle for a second. “Loptous is crafty. I’m not sure if he’ll go down so easily.”

In moments, the dragon stopped moving, and the warriors held their fire. Zephyr and the rest of the decoy squad approached the downed Loptous warily, noting that most of the Heroes present hadn’t been injured too badly in the surprise assault. The Summoner gave a nervous tap to the beast’s foot, quickly drawing her hand back in the same moment. Nothing. Not even a tickled toe. “Is he... ?”

“I don’t know,” Seliph said with a shake of his head. He gave Loptous’ foot a tap with the Tyrfing, and got no reaction, something that would have sent the dragon reeling, even if it was a light brush. “Can it be?”

“I can’t sense anything out of the ordinary,” Saias declared. “But I suggest caution. Loptous is someone we cannot lower our guard against.”

The Summoner nodded. “Agreed.”

As the others investigated if Loptous (and to an extent Julius) was alive, Naga grew cautious. Something wasn’t right about this scenario. It was almost too easy. Loptous was down, yes, but his power hadn’t dropped. With everyone attacking him at one time, it should have been dropped further faster, especially after she had dealt such massive damage unto him beforehand. But it hadn’t.

Until a moment where she immediately felt a sudden surge rise from the Earth Dragon and realized what was about to happen, rushing forward in front of everyone. **“Everyone, stop! Loptous is-!!”**

At that moment, Loptous had had enough of being made into a punching bag for one day, and released a blast of dark energy outward. Naga had made a golden shield to withstand the blast and protect the others, softening the impact; however, lowered in strength it may have been, it shattered like glass, and dragon and host were sent flying. Naga disappeared, leaving a fallen Deirdre in her place. “Ah…”

“Deirdre!” yelled Sigurd and Arvis in unison, rushing to her aid (they had escaped the blast zone). The woman had been knocked out cold, sparks of light magic surrounding her, and heavily injured. She and Naga were out of commission.

But it wasn’t just them. The barrier had weakened the blast, but any warriors caught near the blast zone were thrown away or sustained injury. Loptous stood, bleeding black ooze from his wounds, a horrific grimace gracing his jaws as he glowered at the fallen warriors. His host’s clothes were torn every which way, and he was covered in a myriad of wounds, all of which were closing up by the second.

 **“Alright! Listen here, you pathetic piles of flesh!”** voiced Loptous from his host now. **“I’ve had it up to here with these transgressions! You can try and trounce me around like some sort of layabout or bait me into a dirty trap all you like, but make me a punching bag? I will not stand for it, no matter how weak I have become! Naga is down, and the rest of you are next! RRAAARGH!”**

“You monster…” Sigurd growled, wanting to go and slay the lizard himself. But with his wife (and son) down, he was torn. Arvis looked equally inflamed with rage, and it took all of his self-control from not turning everything in his path to cinder.

They needn’t involve themselves, as Zephyr, who had been hit directly with the blast, weakly stood, bleeding heavily and leaning on her right leg. Her glasses had been destroyed in the blast, but she didn’t need them to see her opponent. “Not… not while I’m here…” she grunted. “I won’t allow you to lay a single finger on anyone.”

“Zephyr, stop!” Leif cried out, barely holding on to consciousness. “He’s too strong… he’ll-!”

But she ignored him and the warnings of others as she took a wobbly step forward. Loptous turned to her now, blazing red eyes catching dark brown. **“Oh? Approaching me?”**

“I can’t… kick your ass… if I can’t get closer to you… can I?” Zephyr spat.

He waltzed over to her with not a worry in the world, stopping within a hair's breadth of her reach. **“And how would you go about that?”** he hissed. **“Naga is finished, your army decimated. Your plans have failed, and yet you still oppose me?”**

“What kind of a leader would I be… if I just threw in the towel early, huh?” she wheezed. “What kind of leader… would leave their allies behind? I wouldn’t, even if it means my death…”

**“Hm…”**

Loptous grabbed her neck, lifting her with relative ease as he put her at eye level with him. **“You remind me too much of Naga with all this sacrifice this and allies that. I think I’ll just kill you instead. After all, I can make my own followers here after I conquer Askr.”**

He squeezed, enjoying the sounds of her choked squeals as she struggled to escape. **“Sayonara, Summoner!”**

A rain of precipitating dark magic fell on him, and he threw Zephyr down to dodge it. He peered up at the would-be attacker, and his lip curled instantly. **“** **_You…_ ** **”** he snarled beastily. **“You dare come back to face me?!”**

“I do.”

Nearby, Zephyr’s fading vision caught a glimpse of her savior, and her heart skipped several beats that day.

“And this time,” Lyon said as he prepared another spell, his pulsing violet aura making his robes and cape whip around him, Ephraim ready to back him at a moment’s notice, “I will beat you on my own terms.”

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming up is the last chapter. Will our Heroes make it?


	17. Dark Clarity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final battle is upon the Order. What will happen in the clash of mortals and beast?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yikes, sorry for the wait guys. I was writing this in the middle of May right after the last chapter, thinking this should be out in the beginning of June...
> 
> Only to get sucked into DBZ: Dokkan Battle and nearly dropping FEH (and the fic) for good. Dokkan is so good, it's everything I wanted in FEH and then some (barring the battle mechanics). Because of this, most of the great stuff that I had planned for this chapter... well, kinda changed. A lot. But despite this, I quite like how this turned out.
> 
> Anyway, hope you guys enjoy!
> 
> (Oh, and fair warning for some violent graphic scenes towards the end.)

 

* * *

 

Chapter 17:

Dark Clarity

 

And this time, unlike in the arena, it was Lyon who made the first move, firing a huge blast of darkness. Ephraim followed this up with a fierce yell, the blazing edge of Siegmund ready to take down the terrible tyrant. Loptous merely grinned, sharp teeth glimmering. Finally! Time to take down these half-pints! 

**“Oh ho! Someone’s finally grown a spine!”** Loptous whooped excitedly, deflecting the dark magic with a hand and pushing Ephraim out of the way with a palm strike in the next moment, then lunging straight for Lyon - he couldn't help it, the thrill of the hunt was a lure to him, and he would gladly take the bait if it meant he could get something out of this.  **“It’s about time too! I was getting sick of fighting weak mortals and wannabe gods! Show me what you’ve learned, freak! I’m dying to know!”**

“I’ll have you know I’ve learned plenty since our last bout!” replied Lyon in turn, sending another shower of black in Loptous’ direction. The possessed prince just shrugged it off and bulldozed his way through, a claw swipe swinging dangerously to Lyon’s cheek and missing by a hair. Ephraim came from behind and tried to knock Loptous off his feet by sweeping Siegmund under his legs, but all it earned him was a Matrix-style dodge and a hearty kick to the face. Another blast of black had Loptous dodging it with a flick of his shoulder, and a third attack from below let him jump out the way.

“What?” Lyon’s eyes widened. No way! He evaded all of those attacks, even Ephraim’s? And with such ease as well.

“Get back here!” Ephraim shouted, slashing horizontally for Loptous’ middle, but he missed again as Loptous moved to the left and grabbed the lance itself. “What in the-”

**“How boorish. A weapon of this caliber should never be used like some sort of a brute tool,”** Loptous scolded. He spun Ephraim around and tossed him a short distance to fall in a heap of dust.

“Ephraim!” he called, going to his aid. Lyon was shaken. There weren’t many who could toss away his friend like some ragged doll. Loptous truly was a terrible foe.

**“How lame,”** sighed Loptous disappointedly, tackling Lyon to the ground with ease. A beam of darkness was pointed at his heart.  **“This is the extent of your so-called ‘training’?”**

“Not even close!” Lyon teleported and reappeared right behind him, using a portion of his magic to successfully trip him. Loptous stumbled, caught off guard, only to see a recovering Ephraim charging in to spear him in two. Unfortunately for the lance wielder, Loptous was a little bit better regaining his footing, and hopped backwards in the nick of time, escaping with slashed red locks and a deep, but non fatal, cut on his abdomen. 

_ ‘Tch, not bad,’ _ Loptous thought to himself begrudgingly. Mortal teamwork - when it worked - was always something he secretly admired; it meant his foes were smart, and smart foes always meant a challenge instead of easy pickings. Perhaps the little twerp and his blue-haired friend had something going on, something to keep him on his toes. Or perhaps to stall?

Whatever the case was, it was time to put an end to it.

He aimed his sights for Ephraim now and launched a barrage of red flashing beams - the small fry could wait, he realized, when there was clearly a bigger threat amidst this battle. He grinned upon seeing the struggling Ephraim trying to deflect every attack with the legendary weapon, some whizzing by his cheeks and armor.  **“C’mon! Struggling to keep up?”**

“Stop that!” Lyon yelled, summoning another cloud of purple and black magic to intercept the laser barrage, but Loptous merely sent it back to its owner with a flick of his hand, sending Lyon sprawling.  **“Stay down, kid,”** Loptous scoffed, intensifying the laser attack.  **“I have other fish to fry.”**

“Lyon! Rrgh!” Ephraim managed to hold his ground, but only just. This guy was incredibly strong, stronger than he realized, stronger than Lyon could have described. Nevertheless, he wasn’t about to give up to some evil dragon. He fought the Demon King for the love of the gods!

Concentrating, he willed his lance to become wreathed in flame, and he swung in a downward arc in the middle of the laser barrage. Loptous leaped back in surprise, not expecting a counterattack like that, but it was too late; the fires licked up around him and swallowed him whole like a dragon’s maw, the holy flames burning bright gold. Ephraim panted as he watched. Had he done it?

Arvis knew the grim truth. Of course it wasn’t over. Loptous was stronger than that.  “Don’t let your guard down! He’s-!”

**“Heheh… oh, you poor fool.”**

The flames sputtered and shivered before dispersing into nothing. Loptous was unscathed, save for his singed hair, and that had been minimal itself. Ephraim was taken aback by his resilience. Those flames should have worked, not even the Demon King could escape those unscathed! “What on-”

**“Didn’t you know? I have dragon blood in these veins, as well as the innate blood of Fjalar, the latter courtesy of this host’s father,”** Loptous explained with a mocking grin Arvis’ way (the Emperor of Flame merely glared back).   **“No fire can harm me, much less those puny embers from your lance, as much of an admirable effort that attack was.”**

He prepared another laser barrage.  **“Tsk, tsk, and I thought you were better than that friend you call a mage. Turns out you’re just like the rest of them.”**

“Think again!”

A leg swiftly swept him off his feet from below, sending him onto his back, eyes blown from how sudden the blow had been. His head dazzled and slightly sore from hitting the ground pretty roughly, he peered upward to find Lyon behind the sneak attack.  **“That was you?”**

“Rule number one of battle: never let your guard down, even when you’re pressing the advantage!” Lyon recited, remembering the first of many rules Ephraim had tried to drill into him when he was taught close combat - he never really did well in that regard, nor in any regard that related to melee combat, but he was proud to find he could use it in this situation.

The Earth Dragon growled. How dare some second-rate mage tell him how to conduct his battles when he could barely fight on his own?!  **“Hold your tongue, mortal!”** Loptous shrieked, running for the mage.  **“I’ll show you what it means to mock me!”**

 Lyon side-stepped out of the way, making room for the Renais prince to smack Loptous like a bat to a baseball, and Lyon followed it up with a focused beam of darkness that hit right in the sternum. The redhead fell head over cape, tossing up dust as he came to a rolling stop. 

“He’s right, you know,” Ephraim stated, giving Lyon the briefest of acknowledging smirks - gods, Lyon felt the pride warm him physically. “Arrogance is one’s downfall on the battlefield. Give it up, Loptous.”

Loptous faced Ephraim with frosty contempt, hand holding his open wound as he slowly stood. The hatred his aura exuded could kill a man.  **“You…”**

“The same,” Ephraim echoed with equal cold, not taking his eyes off his opponent, Siegmund dripping with his target’s blood -  had he managed to land his strike properly, Loptous’ host would be down for the count. The dragon was as fierce as Lyon had described. “I don’t know what your endgame is, but I’m ending this.”

**“And you think you and your purple patch of feathers over here can take me down?”** Loptous released a wheezing cackle, his whole body shaking from the force.  **“How foolish, how paltry… and utterly silly. Look around you, musclehead!”**

Loptous opened his arms up in a grand gesture.  **“Your allies are down. Naga no longer poses a threat to me. Not even your precious Summoner holds the means to fight back. And you have the absolute** **_gall_ ** **to say that you’re ending this?”**

“Trust me, you filthy snake,” Ephraim hissed, gripping Siegmund tighter, “I don’t pick fights I can’t win.”

**“Didn’t you say arrogance was one’s downfall in battle?”** Loptous chided cheekily.

“Being confident is different than being arrogant.”

**But can you say the same for your friend?”** Loptous sneered derisively.  **“I doubt you could. I know he’s not confident, he doesn’t hold a candle to the strength other fighters here possess. After all, he couldn’t beat me the first time around. He needed outside help to put a dent in me, and he didn’t have control over that Demon King of his. How weak.”**

“Shut your mouth.”

Ephraim turned, almost startled at the sudden shift in octave Lyon’s voice gave. He never raised his voice, even when he got angry. So when he heard it, his heart stuttered out of the sheer shock of the moment. Loptous rounded on the prince of Grado, a snarl forming on the edge of his lips.  **“What did you say, punk?”**

“Shut. Your. Mouth,” Lyon repeated with emphasis on each syllable. There was a blazing fury in his aura, violently whipping about in the air. “I’ve heard enough of your senselessness. You may mock me all you like, I am aware of my faults in every way. I will not, however, tolerate you talking ill of my comrades with that venomous tongue of yours! I may have been weaker last time… but this time will be different. I told you before, and I’ll tell you again: I will beat you with all my power!”

Zephyr, who was watching this whole fight go on with feeble vision, could only look on with wonder. It never ceased to amaze her when he stood up for himself and others. He had grown so much… “Lyon…”

Loptous snorted, rolling his eyes.  **“Oh, goody, a big hero speech of unkeepable promises. Do us all a favor and stay down like the broken dog you are!”**

The dragon itself roared this time, a claw swiping the two warriors away. An audible cry could be heard from them, particularly that of Lyon, and Zephyr’s heart dropped in her stomach. “Gods, no!”

The dragon picked up the frail mage, looking to swallow him whole.  **“Since you wanna act like a big man, I’ll treat you like one,”** the host chortled.  **“I’ll honor it by killing you on the spot. No need to stall when I have my chance~”**

“You mean like this?” Ephraim shouted, jumping up and spearing the lance straight into the beast’s eye, the same one that Sigurd had initially scarred. Inky, obsidian blood fountained forth as the dragon let go of Lyon in favor of screaming like a banshee, stomping about and practically having a complete meltdown.  **“Damn you! RAAARGH! You wound me?!”**

 His host had fell and covered his left eye, the intense shock of the attack keeping him from taking action. For a moment, Arvis thought he saw the hate in his son’s eyes lessen. Was Julius still fighting in there?

As Lyon pushed himself to his knees, body aching in several places from where he was dropped haphazardly (he was pretty sure he cracked a rib or two), the Demon King’s voice rang in his mind,  _ “Child. It is nearly time. In a couple of moments, my power will be fully realized. When the time comes, I will personally arrive on the battlefield, and end this foolish lizard’s life once and for all.” _

“W-what?” Lyon nearly exclaimed, rolling away from one of Loptous’ rampaging feet - Ephraim had proceeded to continue his assault on the dragon’s head, stabbing right on top and causing another screaming fit. He sat his back against some rubble, thoughts racing as to what the Demon King meant. The mere thought of going through that trauma… that… that… situation… unless he meant what he thought he meant, which should have been impossible- “N-no, no, no! What do you mean, ‘personally’? I don’t want a repeat of last time!”

_ “A repeat? This is the same attitude you had last time,”  _ the Demon King grumbled.  _ “If it hadn’t been for me, you would have died. You’re telling me you would rather have had that outcome and gain nothing from the ordeal?” _

Lyon grimaced; was the Demon King seriously trying to convince him that allowing him to take over was a good idea, considering that all it did was cause grief and pain for everyone involved? Especially the Summoner? His knuckles tightened as they curled. “N-no, but…”

_ “...”  _ The Demon King seemed to actually  _ sigh  _ disappointedly, a sound that crawled through Lyon’s veins, a ghost’s touch.  _ “Child. We do not have time for this,”  _ he relayed.  _  “Loptous will not hesitate to end it all once all obstacles are cleared. Nothing will divert his mind away from his rampage until all is covered in ash and dark. Do you wish for your comrades to die over something as minor as being possessed for what is essentially a brief period of time? Would you rather have Zephyr torn to pieces by the claws of that monster?” _

Lyon gritted his teeth, hopping away from a giant claw inches from crushing him. His legs cried out and he fell to his knees again. “Don’t start trying to act like a good guy!”

The Demon King snorted.  _ “Are you serious? Zephyr was willing to fight against a monster that could snap her spine in a matter of seconds with minimal effort, and she was already heavily wounded. Are you telling me you, the one who is quite literally head over heels for this woman, wouldn’t do the same? Because if that’s the case, then you truly are a lot more pathetic than I thought you were.” _

“I-”

Lyon was interrupted upon hearing the sound of his friend’s yowl. Craning his neck up - the dragon was a fairly large beast on his hind legs - he saw Ephraim dangling precariously from Loptous’ claws. Blood seeped from spots in the man’s armor, and he was breathing shallowly. A cold cramp of horror gripped Lyon’s chest. “ _ Ephraim!!” _

“L-Lyon…” Ephraim wheezed. Just trying to speak was an arduous task. “Get… get out of here…”

Even Ephraim’s ill-fated rival Valter had a quiet look of disgust upon seeing Loptous defeat him. Umbra, peering up from her injured spot on the ground, shared her rider’s sentiments with a growl. “How dare he…” he spat. “That damn lizard…”

**“So much for not picking fights he couldn’t win,”** Loptous chortled, tossing the Renais prince casually. He plucked Siegmund from his head, causing another spout of blood to rain, throwing the weapon somewhere far. **“Now he’s just a heap** **beneath my feet, where he and everyone else on this ghastly planet should be.”**

His gaze switched quickly to Lyon’s now, a sinister grin marking his draconic face.  **“And speaking of, you’re next on my list, kid. You’ve been a thorn in my side since the beginning, and you’ve been burrowing deeper into it ever since. Even before that arena fight, I had a feeling you get in my way of my plans. Turns out I was right from the get-go.”**

He raised his claw.  **“What a piece of wasted potential. I expected better.”**

His claw came down to rend his foe, Lyon closing his eyes. Streamers of red flew through the air. A high-pitched scream rang out. 

Wait, what? That wasn’t his scream-

When Lyon opened his eyes again, he was greeted with the sight of a bleeding Zephyr right on his lap, a portal that disappeared right behind her. They widened in terror as she said with a watery grin, “You knucklehead...”

“Zephyr!  _ ZEPHYR!” _

The entire battlefield could hear Lyon practically shriek her name, grabbing her and gently cradling her barely conscious form. Red caked his hands and fingers as it ran down her back, forming a small pool beneath her. His eyes were brimming with tears, barely able to hold her from how hard his hands were shaking. This couldn’t be happening, this couldn’t be happening-! “Gods, what- why? Why did you…?”

Zephyr coughed harshly, bracing herself on his leg as her body shook. “Why not? You’re saying you wanted to take the hit? I know you’re a tough cookie and those Brazen skills really help… but this is a bit far, y’know?”

Lyon shook his head, immediately lending her whatever energy he had left in the form of Reciprocal Aid, his head swimming from the effort. “Zephyr, how can you be joking at a time like this?” he asked. He honestly wasn’t sure if he should commend her for her strength or her ability to take a dragon claw to the back and still stay kicking enough to joke around.

“Easy, hehe…” Zephyr answered, her laugh dying away into another coughing fit. “Besides… I’m not letting you die… not on my watch. I… I love you too much to let that happen.”

“But Zephyr… I…” Lyon sniffed, the tears slipping down his chin, falling on to her. Had the situation not been so dire, he would have thought the sight of him sobbing like this in front of her - and everyone else for that matter - so unsightly. “It should have been me instead of you, y-you shouldn’t have had to do this… I-I mean, look at you, y-you’re already so hurt. If you die, t-then… there’s no reason for me to-”

_ Bonk! _

“Ow!” Lyon whimpered, a sore spot forming where Zephyr fiercely poked his forehead. 

“Don’t you dare say… what I think you’re about to say, Lyon! You have so many reasons to keep on going, so many reasons to fight!” she rasped, newfound strength in her voice, a blazing determination in her gaze. “I don’t care about getting hurt if it means you get to keep on going with your life. You… you…”

She coughed again, trembling. “I know… this might sound cliché, but… you’ve grown so much in the past several months. And during that time… I've seen you grow stronger and stronger, little by little. When you staved off the militia, when you stood up for me… I never felt so much pride in the growth of someone before. And you should feel proud too. It's incredible how far you've come… and… and…"

Zephyr's eyes slipped shut as she fell into unconsciousness as she whispered, "How hard… you fight… for those you love…"

Loptous groaned, seemingly done with this sob story.  **“About damn time she shut up! First Ishtar gets in my way, and now Zephyr! What is it with these women? Tch. Fine. If that’s how it’s going to be, then I’ll kill you both!”**

Flame and light magic smacked him in the back, and he stumbled forward, catching himself on the side of the castle. Craning his neck up and over, he snapped,  **“You two! You still oppose me? My own brethren?”**

“You are no brethren of ours, wretched demon!” Saias exclaimed. His robes were torn, hair tousled, but he clearly was ready for a round two if there ever was one. “And we will continue to oppose you so long as your plans for tyranny exist!"

“Give my son back!” Arvis yelled, launching another ball of flame, one which was deflected by the dragon. “I’ll burn you to cinder!”

As the three fought, magic being spammed everywhere, something in Lyon… snapped. Like a shard of glass fracturing after dropping to the ground. The sight of seeing Zephyr and Ephraim so mangled before him, utterly broken by this beast’s actions, when they worked so hard to fight Loptous… even knowing they might die. It did something to him. It made him feel something… cold. Like ice had frosted over his veins.

“Demon King.”

The Demon King sensed this first. In the midst of Lyon’s tears, he caught… a feeling of cold. A bristling frost that seemed to only grow stronger with each passing second. He knew this cold, he knew this cold well. He only felt it in one other instance, when he fought Ephraim in the penultimate fight.  _ “Child?”  _ he replied innocently, a sickly grin on his face.  _ “Whatever is the matter?” _

“...” Lyon placed Zephyr down in a safe spot away from the danger zone, planting a kiss on her forehead. The frost traveled through his body and into his heart. “Don’t play games with me. I...I can hardly control myself. I feel so cold, so...so…”

_ “Angry, is that it?”  _ the Demon King finished for him, almost giddily. His host’s anger swam in his conscious, fueling the demon’s power.  _ “An anger so powerful it’s made your warm heart colder? A fury so profound that you need to let out, to take down your foes, to make them suffer for what they’ve done?” _

"..." No response, but the Demon King could feel the mage’s psyche pulse in agreement.

_ “I can help you channel that rage you feel,”  _ the Demon King whispered, ancient claws caressing the mage’s mind.  _ “I can help you turn it into a weapon of mass destruction. You need only allow me access to the outside.” _

Under any other circumstance, Lyon would have refused. He would have adamantly declined, no matter what excuse the demon would have given him, no matter what offer of power he was given. That much power welling within him, it would kill a regular man should it be released. 

But a dark clarity had taken over him now. He was no regular man. And if taking this risk meant he could save Zephyr and Ephraim in anyway...

  “...Will Zephyr be saved? Will Ephraim?” 

_ “Everyone will, I assure you. All except the one who has done you wrong.” _

That was all Lyon needed to hear.

 “Then do it,  _ Fomortiis. _ ”

The entity inside Lyon shivered upon the use of his true name. His immense power welled up like a volcanic eruption, ready to engulf everything around him. A grin made itself known on his lipless mouth, splitting his face in two, as he fully embraced the mage in demonic energies.  _ “As you say,  _ Lyon.”

And the immediate area exploded in purple.

 

* * *

 

In a few moments, the entire environment changed.

The sky darkened, the clouds eerie and menacing, a sign of things to come as a violet light sprung forth from Lyon’s position. Shadows danced along the ground, the castle walls, and the sky.  Wings sprouted upward like ship sails, snapping at the wind. Fists the size of boulders smashed into the earth and a tail the length of a dozen wyverns cracked at the air. Eyes that glowed a faint burnished gold burned into the hearts of all those watching. The surging power of new energy hit the immediate area with a tsunami-type force. Every non-mage was swamped with a heavy cloud of magic. Even magic users like Saias and Arvis found it stifling. "Gods, what manner of magic is this?!" Arvis yelled. 

Loptous lifted an arm to guard against the sheer power sent his way, but even he felt himself get pushed back.  **“What the devil?! Is that what I think…?”**

 Ephraim, who had been dragged off by Joshua, felt dread in his spirit, a dread that weighed on him like dense gravity. He knew what that was, what that beast in the light was. He knew it all too well, and that fateful day came rushing back to him. “Lyon… Lyon, no…!”

_ “Oh, yes… yes, Ephraim,”  _ came the new voice. Echoing. Powerful. Demanding of respect.  _ "It's about time I got in on some of this action for myself…" _

The mist dispersed, and from it emerged the infamous beast of old, the cruel king of legend, the fiend that brought the whole of Magvel to its knees all those centuries ago.

The Demon King.

_ “Aaaah~”  _ Fomortiis yawned widely, extending his arms, relishing in the satisfying cracks and pops his tense muscles gave.  _ “My, oh my, it is great to be back. No longer confined to the mind of a frail body, if only for a little while.”  _ He gave the environment a quick scan with burnished gold eyes, spotting faces new and old. A large pink tongue languidly licked across his lipless chops.  _ “Everyone’s so different now than when I see them through the eyes of a mortal. It’s fascinating how fast mortal bodies grow.” _

Loptous stood, almost in awe at the sight of his foe, claws twitching and eyes wide. So this was the Demon King’s true form. For once, he was met with an opponent that could meet him on equal footing on the battlefield… and he wasn’t sure how to feel. His scales shivered with anxiety, wariness, at this new foe.  **“What are you?”**

_ “Bow before your king,”  _ Fomortiis proclaimed now through Lyon’s healed body, those vermillion eyes piercing and merciless as his voice carried throughout the area. The brooch that Zephyr had given was glowing too - had the Demon King used that to properly store his power like a dragonstone?  _ “Or else I will force you to bend the knee. I tire of your antics, and think everyone else is too. Stand down if you know what’s good for you.” _

The Earth Dragon, who had been staring at this beast for what was an eternity in utmost shock, maybe even a tinge of fright, settled back into his cocky attitude as smoothly as water. He laughed off the threat with a wave of his claw.  **“Me? Bend the knee?”** Loptous scoffed.  **“Are you daft? Or maybe you’ve been stuck in that silly little mage for too long? Who do you think you’re fooling? Who do you think** **_you are?”_ **

Fomortiis looked straight ahead, his expression unmoved by Loptous’ insubordination, the beast itself shifting to sit on his haunches, tail curling at the end. “Lyon” crossed his arms.  _ “I am the Demon King,”  _ he replied calmly, not a hint of malice in his tone. Ephraim swore in his dazed state he could also hear Lyon’s voice as well.  _ “Nothing more, nothing less.” _

The Earth Dragon threw his head back and laughed again.  **“Hah! What a joke!”** crowed Loptous.  **“I am a god, and you are naught but a king without a kingdom. One cannot call themselves king if they have no throne to sit upon. I on the other hand have no issue with my title of godhood.”**

_ "A god that must proclaim he is a god is no true god at all,"  _ Fomortiis said, and one couldn't overlook the taunting undertones.  _ “A true god need not flaunt his abilities and spout what he can do. His actions will speak for himself.” _

**“How… how dare…!”** Loptous was seething, fangs bared and tail cutting deep into the earth.  **“Such crass words! You dare speak in such a manner to divinity?!”**

The demon chortled, and the beast itself spoke this time as it stood from its relaxed position.  _ “I do dare,  _ lizard.  _ I dare to do many things other deities do not. I dare to take what I need and not what I want for my goals, for wants create greed and unnecessary obstacles in the way of the future. I dare to defy the odds when the odds are against me in every way.” _

**“How hypocritical. You speak these things, yet know there are divine figures here that have done similar, other** **_kingly figures_ ** **have done the same. What makes you so special?”**

_ “Anyone can sit on a throne, Loptous. But a  _ true king  _ needs no chair to establish his rule, no pretty words to embellish him.” _

**“And you think you are that true king?”** Loptous barked.

_ “And you think you are a true god?”  _ Fomortiis shot right back.

Loptous blew smoke from his nose.  **“I’m not in the mood to speak philosophy, demon. I’m here to conquer the land and rip apart anyone who stands between that goal. And you have been an irredeemable pain from the beginning. I will kill you,** **_demon king,_ ** **and your precious host too.”**

Fomortiis grinned, his host matching his expression.  _ “I’d like to see you try.” _

**“GRAAAAAAGH!”**

_ “WRRAAAGH!” _

The two titans smashed into each other in a tangle of limbs and a clash of otherworldly screams. Claws swiped and dug into age-old scales and muscle, teeth gnashed and bit and tore flesh, horns gored into vulnerable tissue. The ground shook and trembled under their hefty footfalls. Vile black and violet blood rained from their wounds, marred the ground and anyone too close in bloody ruin. Sigurd felt his stomach twist in knots at the gruesomeness of it. The match between the two dragons previously had been rightfully brutal. Just looking at Deirdre’s wounds made him shiver.

 The battle now was akin to rabid dogs tearing each other apart with no regard to their surroundings or their own health.

And speaking of no regard, the Summoner, while placed on the outskirts of the fray and thus not in any immediate danger, was still in a vulnerable position. Sigurd hoped Lyon - or anyone for that matter that wasn’t in outright pain -  had a plan on getting her out of there eventually, if they could manage to swoop around the entanglement of claw and fang.

Ephraim shivered against Joshua in a rare sign of fear, the past battle feeling like nothing compared to this. The Demon King had been a tough customer before, but now?

Now, as he watched him duke it out with the Earth Dragon, the Demon King was in a whole new league.

A fist mightily uppercutted Loptous in the chin and broke the bloody standoff, snapping the dragon’s head back with a resounding  _ thwack! _   Before Fomortiis could score another punch, the dragon retaliated with a well-aimed tail swing to the hip, forcing the Demon King backwards.  _ “Hrrrm…”  _ he hummed irritably. 

**“Didn’t expect that, didn’t you?!”** snarked Loptous proudly. He charged with the might of a berserker, tackling the still unbalanced Fomortiis to the ground and going for his exposed throat. The demon wasn’t having it however, and tossed the dragon up and over with a push of his legs, causing Loptous to crash into a nearby lake.

_ “No, but your front-on assault tactics are weak,”  _ Fomortiis said, spitting a scale from his mouth as he sat again. He wasn’t too winded from the initial tussle, aside from the occasional licking of a wound, of which his tough hide bore many. He was however, loving this battle, evidenced by his gold eyes  alight with pent-up bloodlust and what could be made out as jubilation. His breaths were visible in the air, curling around his lipless mouth like smoke. He peered to Lyon and said,  _ “Lyon. I’ll handle this. You make sure that host of his doesn’t wake up and start anything stupid.” _

Cold, vermillion eyes met gold. “Consider it done. Take care of him.”

Fomortiis laughed, an odd, echoing tune.  _ “Will do, Lyon.” _

The demon walked off to meet the sopping wet Earth Dragon as Ephraim shakily stood, using Joshua to balance himself. “Lyon!” he called out to the other prince, whom had taken Zephyr from her safe spot and began to heal her. “Lyon, don’t let that fiend control you, he-”

“Who said anything about being controlled?” Lyon cut in calmly. The Summoner’s wounds were healed, and Gradian prince himself looked none too worse for wear. He walked over to Julius, gently moving him over and looking through his wounds. Nothing too severe, save for his eye and abdomen. “What you saw before was an act, a show. I allowed him to speak through me, I allowed him to appear. And besides, he has no need to use my body to fight, not when he’s amassed enough of his own energy to fight by himself.”

Ephraim blinked, coughing a little from his aggravated wounds as he responded, “What? Y-you’re saying you allowed him to-?”

“Yes. If I knew any other way to stop this monster, I would take it. But you… Zephyr…" Lyon grit his teeth, seething anger and rage of him and the king flowing through his veins. He took a breath to calm himself. "I couldn't stand back and watch you and everyone else I loved die by that fiend. I had to take action."

“You’re saying you’re not worried about this thing turning south?” Joshua piped in, visible eye narrowed. “Even I wouldn’t trust my luck that much. The Demon King’s is as volatile as they come.”

“I’m not. All he wants is to take down the enemy of an enemy. And even if his mind does change and goes after you and I once again… I’ll stop him. With everything I got.”

The sound of footsteps behind him alerted Lyon to the presence of Arvis and Saias running for Julius. His powers of Ardent Sacrifice began taking hold of the Loptous host, recovering his wounds. Saias looked the most relieved, a held breath leaving him as he saw the color return to Julius’ skin. “Thank the gods…” he breathed. “The malice that I sensed in him from that monster… it’s disappeared. He’s free. Which only leaves Loptous himself to deal with.”

“Mhm…” Arvis looked at an observant Lyon from the corner of his view, a burning flame within. Was it anger for hurting his son… or relief for saving him from anymore pain? “You…”

A terrific shriek pierced the air, interrupting them. Loptous had been caught by the demon in a one-armed chokehold, struggling fitfully in his grasp, jaws snapping and claws scrambling against the mountain of muscle that held him to Fomortiis' chest. The dragon was sporting more wounds from the chest down, once rugged scales now flayed to ruin. The Demon King hadn’t come out totally unscathed either, a fresh line of blood trailing from his right wing and the tip of his tail chewed off to a bloody stump.

**"Unhand me, demon! Release me!"** Loptous demanded. His wings battered the Demon King's face and eyes in a further attempt to throw him off.  **"Get your unholy claws off me!"**

Fomortiis sighed, raising his head to avoid the fluttering wings.  _ "Fine. If it could get you to shut up, then I'll let you go." _

Loptous looked stunned, feeling the grip of the demon loosen. Had he really fallen for his pleas? He grinned nastily, secretly charging a blast of darkness. A fatal mistake. 

**“Heh. I thank you for that.”**

But before he could enact his plan, his jaw was grabbed by one of the Demon King’s hands. Fomortiis grinned like a mad man as he said with a sickening cruelty,  _ “On second thought? I have a better plan to keep that holier-than-thou mouth of yours in check.” _

With the other hand, he snapped the bottom half of his jaw clean off like the snapping of a tree. 

Those watching would be accosted by the most gut-wrenching screech that emerged from the dragon as Loptous flailed, more inky blood spouting from the wound like a fountain, staining the lake and the nearby earth in black. His claws held his gushing mouth, howling in agony. It was a gruesome sight, to say the least, and even the hardier warriors watching had to turn their heads.

 Sigurd trembled. He knew Loptous had been formidable, he knew that dragon was nothing short of incredibly powerful. He also knew that the opponent he was facing was terrifically strong in his own right.

To see Loptous so utterly wounded in such an easy fashion… it should have thrilled him to see his adversary being beaten. This time, however, it was beyond a frightening sight.

**“RaAAargh…”** Loptous pitifully moaned telepathically as he fell, blood flowing from between his clawed fingers. His breathing was faint, sparkling red eyes now dull like dying stars.  **“How…? How? You shouldn’t be this strong… you were in a period of deep stasis, degradation should have hit... you shouldn’t even be out here!”**

Fomortiis erupted with a hearty laugh, holding his chest from how hard he hollered.  _ “Silly lizard, you must forget in your addled age,”  _ he said mockingly once he calmed.  _  “That ‘stasis’ you’re referring to was essentially a power nap to store my power. Degradation is only for the dragons. As a demon, that type of ailment is not bestowed upon me, and thus even in old age I’ll be able-minded... unlike you, clearly. Your mind has eroded so much your brain might as well be sludge at this point.” _

**“What? No, no no no, this cannot be! This** **_cannot be_ ** **!”** The dragon shook his head, struggling to stand now. He refused to go down with this knowledge, he wouldn’t!  **“I cannot allow this… I will not allow this! I cannot perish yet!”**

A beam of darkness charged in his claws. His final trump card.  **“This world will fall to darkness yet! I am Loptous, scion of darkness! And I will-”**

A wicked clap of thunder struck him before he could finish, sending him back down to earth with another shriek. Fomortiis, startled by the sudden strike, took a few cautious steps backward, shoulders tense. That wasn’t a natural thunderbolt, it was much too powerful. That was a bolt made of high-caliber magic.

And he only knew of one person that could make such lightning.

_ “So, you’ve finally come, Lady Ishtar.” _

Ishtar stepped off Reinhardt’s horse, her face set as she approached the demolished battlefield ruins. The rolling growls of thunder above told of her masked fury waiting to be unleashed. “Demon King,” she replied in turn, cold lavender orbs meeting gold. “Even you came to battle?”

_ “Of course, my lady. Why wouldn’t I?”  _ Fomortiis said with a quirky grin.  _ “If it hadn’t been for me, the others would have certainly perished.” _

“Hmph. Don’t think you’ve earned my respect because you subdued Loptous. Now, do me a favor and stay down. This is my fight.”

Her response was tight, the clouds above gathering thickly. Fomortiis sat down, tucking in his wings. He knew what she was capable of, and from those thunderclouds above, he was treading on a thin tightrope. One wrong word could set her off. The thunder of Sieglinde was a mere static shock in comparison to Mjolnir’s wrath, and he wasn’t about to test it.  _ “As you wish.” _

Loptous squinted at the thunder mage as she approached. His upper jaw lifted in a grotesque half-smile, head slightly tilted her way.  **“My dear… you’ve arrived,”** he wheezed weakly. **“What great timing, that twisted demon nearly did me in. I’m sorry for the terrible mess… would you forgive me?”**

“...” Ishtar placed a hand on his scales. Ruined, withered, warped like his decaying mind. She said nothing for a while, looking down. The clouds seemed to join in her contemplation, thinning and swirling. Then she looked back up and gave her chilling response:

“There is nothing to forgive.”

And a bigger, more calamitous bolt of lightning came down on the Earth Dragon, the brilliant flash highlighting the screaming Loptous turning to little more than ash that disappeared once the lightning cleared. All that was left to tell the tale he was here was a massive scorch mark on what was previously blood soaked grass. The clouds cleared, leaving the sky an empty, dusky twilight. 

The fight had been won. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't the end of this saga. I have a special epilogue planned to be made which follows the aftermath. See you then!


End file.
